


The Tricky Task of Persuading Gabriel

by thefandomsinhalor



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alcohol, Annoyed Dean Winchester, Canon Divergent, Conventions, Cosplay, Episode: s05e09 The Real Ghostbusters (Supernatural), Gabriel Being Gabriel (Supernatural), Hot Tub, M/M, NSFW Art, Party, Public Nudity, Supernatural Canon Big Bang 2020, Team Free Love (Supernatural), episode fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-11
Updated: 2020-08-11
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:42:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 26,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25823833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thefandomsinhalor/pseuds/thefandomsinhalor
Summary: It’s the very first Supernatural Convention!Furious with Chuck for authorizing this event, Sam and Dean are beyond weirded out by the whole concept and are about ready to run out of there, right after they give him a piece of their minds. Before they can, however, they get cornered by a very scorned Gabriel, who plans on retaliating after their last encounter. Holy fire is no joke.Sam, determined to have him on their side against Lucifer, asks him to hear them out first. When Gabriel realizes where they are, and finding the situation hilarious, he then “agrees” to give them the duration of the convention to persuade him.Dean, not sharing the same faith in Gabriel that Sam does, wishes that Castiel was there to have their backs. But no matter! He’s already there, waiting for Chuck’s Q and A, which is a jaw-dropping surprise to everyone.And thus begins Team Free Will’s attempt to turn into Team Free Love.In the middle of a convention filled with fans.And Gabriel is not missing a chance to up the game of the event.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Gabriel/Sam Winchester
Comments: 26
Kudos: 118
Collections: Supernatural Canon BigBang 2020





	1. Chapter One: Crashing a Convention

**Author's Note:**

> *NOTE ABOUT THE RATING*  
> This fic is rating E because of the NSFW art. The fic itself is probably between T and M. So, I just wanted to make this clear in case there is some confusion 😉
> 
> Thank you for the lovely art, AgusVedder! You were a joy to work with ❤️
> 
> And as always, thank you Danica_Dust and Landrala, who are always so helpful. You both rock and I'm not sure I deserve you!
> 
> This is my entry for SPN Canon Big Bang 2020! Thank you dear mods for organizing this challenge! It gave me the perfect excuse to write canon.  
> This is very different than what I typically write, but given how the year has turned out (so far), I really felt like writing something light and silly.  
> I hope you enjoy it!  
> (stay safe everyone ❤️)

“Oh. Dear. God.”

Standing in the lobby of the Pineview Hotel, in Vermillion, Ohio, Sam and Dean Winchester were staring in horror at the crowd before them.

A mini cluster of people dressed as themselves.

Sams and Deans everywhere.

Laughing and browsing through the various merchandise on display. Conversing with the occasional monster or spirit the brothers had once fought.

All of it was fake, of course. Intentionally so and purely for the purpose of celebrating the story of Sam and Dean, so Becky had told them.

Be that as it may, the spectacle unfolding in front of them was rather difficult to digest.

As they felt a mild anxiety rising within their chests, Sam and Dean hurriedly crossed the room, in the hope of stepping away from this nonsense. All this was a little too revealing for their taste.

Unfortunately for the boys, this uncomfortable sensation of being exposed was only the beginning.

“I mean, what the hell,” said Dean for the fourth time since they had set foot inside.

“Isn’t it amazing!” said Becky, who had trotted up behind them. “And you’re just in time for the intro, too!”

“The, um, intro?” asked Sam as his eyes followed a man wearing yellow-eyes contacts.

“Of the convention! There is so much to see. A few panels to discuss the various themes, storylines and, well, characters of the books. We’ve got experts of the supernatural,” she said, ogling Sam. “Nothing like you guys, of course… There will also be a cosplay contest and even bands to perform _live_ later on, too. Isn’t that a-ma-zing? But the whole thing is about to begin officially with Chuck’s Q and A. Part one of it, I think…” She then let out a shy little laugh, and said, “But I suppose you guys already know everything there is to know.”

“Don’t be so sure,” said Dean, making a face of disgust at no less than four guys walking in front of him, all wearing leather jackets and similar amulets.

And he ran his hand over his chest, suddenly missing his own.

But he had more important matters to deal with at the moment.

Feeling the need to express his outrage at Chuck, he turned around, only to realize that only Becky had followed them from the entrance.

“Where is he? Chuck?”

And as if on cue, large doors were pushed wide open to their left, where the crowd had begun forming a line behind a velvet rope.

“Coming in, you guys?” she said to the boys excitedly.

As Dean was now truly at a loss for words, it was Sam who answered. “Um, sure. Just a quick sec. You—you go right in and we’ll join you.”

“I’ll save you a seat.” She winked at Sam before joining the enthusiastic crowd which was now storming inside the room.

They both stood there for a moment, losing count of how many people they had just witnessed being dressed as themselves, until Dean said, “Okay, what the—what—what’s happening? I—are we seriously going to watch this?”

“I—I don’t really want to,” said Sam, pushing his hair out of his face. “But I—I can’t…”

“…Ignore it?”

“Yeah.”

“I mean, the books were already annoying,” said Dean. “But _this_?”

“Totally with you.”

Discouraged, Dean groaned as he noticed that the lobby, which had been packed a moment ago, was now nearly empty. Everyone had dashed inside the room, eager to attend the Q and A. He let out a deep sigh. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but shall we?”

“We need to, um, talk to Chuck anyway, right?”

“Right.”

Both perturbed by the concept, yet vaguely intrigued as to what a small assembly of strangers could possibly see that was fascinating about them, they slowly advanced towards the room in question.

Without stepping in, they momentarily remained by the doorway, watching everyone taking a seat. Large replicas of the book covers were laid out on each side of the room, and the stage was decorated with royal blue and red curtains and a giant pentagram sigil, which had “First Annual _Supernatural_ Convention” written on it.

Sam and Dean took a step back from the entryway as last-minute attendees rushed by them, only to completely move out of the way when hotel employees brought in additional chairs.

Standing a few feet from the doorway they exchanged looks of worry.

“I’d almost prefer dealing with the angel squad than this.”

And before Sam could reply to Dean’s comment, a voice said behind them, “That could be arranged, bucko.”

Their eyes immediately widened. Their shoulders stiffened. Holding their breaths, they then slowly turned around and found the archangel Gabriel staring at them.

He was still wearing the same pickle green jacket and he appeared to be unharmed. 

His general demeanor was different though.

This time around, he wasn’t harboring a smug face.

Actually, he looked kind of pissed.

“Sam. Dean. So glad to catch up to you guys.”

“How—how did you—”

“Find you? I have my ways, Sam,” said Gabriel, taking a step forward. “But that’s not important right now. See, because of your little stunt, I kinda lost my witness protection privilege.” He took another step forward and held a stern look, making the boys instantly back away. “My cover is not entirely ruined, but I’m more exposed than ever. And my privacy is something I really value. So, after I had some time to reflect on the matter, I’m pretty sure that you boys need another lesson. For starters.”

“Ugh, not this again,” said Dean. “Come on, your problem isn’t with us, it’s with your damn family. How about you start there, huh? Because this is so last week’s episode.”

“You two bozos trapped me in a circle of holy fire,” said Gabriel, pointing his finger at them. “You seriously think I’m gonna let that one slide?”

“Hold—wait!” Sam stepped in front of Dean, holding his hands in the air, hoping to stop Gabriel as he was about to snap his fingers. “Look, I—I’m sorry. Gabriel, I’m sorry. Okay?”

“Excuse me?” blurted out Dean. “ _You’re_ apologizing? What are you sorry for? He shoved us into TV land! He turned you into a car! And he—HE TURNED YOU INTO A CAR!” Dean repeated, staring at him in exasperation. “And let’s not forget the awesome time when he killed me over a hundred times!”

“And then he—he brought you back. And we did try to kill him, Dean,” added Sam quickly. "More than once.”

“He started it!”

“And right now, it doesn’t matter,” said Sam as he shot an angry look at his brother. He exhaled deeply and returned his gaze to Gabriel. “Look, we all did crappy stuff, okay?”

“Some more than others,” muttered Dean.

“But what I said was true, too. You could help us—”

“Sam,” warned Dean, cutting him off.

But he didn’t listen. “You could. And you know it.”

Gabriel chuckled as he ran his hands over his face. “I said it before, Sam, and I’ll say it again: it’s like talking to a brick wall.” He looked up to the ceiling for a moment, and then, shaking his head, he said, “My family issues aside, you understand that there is no stopping this, right? Knuckleheads, _there is no stopping this_.”

“Then what do you have to lose?”

“Um, a lot, actually. No matter what happens, I’d really like to still be vertical by the end of this story.”

Before Sam could plead once more, however, they were interrupted by a few people, one dressed as Bloody Mary and the others as Sam and Dean, who rushed by them, in order to get themselves good seats in the room next to them.

Standing at the entrance, Sam, Dean and Gabriel watched the crowd getting excited as the event manager was fixing the microphone on stage.

After a short pause, Gabriel said, “Guys? What the hell is this?”

“You don’t know?”

“About this…gathering? No. What am I looking at right now?”

Sam and Dean exchanged an embarrassed look.

Making sure to avoid Gabriel’s eyes, Sam cleared his throat and said, “It’s, um, a _Supernatural_ convention.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Like, for the _Supernatural_ books. Being an archangel, you—you must know about _the_ books, right?” Dean had lowered his voice at the word “archangel.”

“Right,” said Gabriel slowly as he leaned his head backwards. “I’ve kinda been keeping my distance from all of this. But, yes, I knew about the books.” Half-amused by this information, he then said, “I just didn’t know about _this._ ”

“Welcome to the club.”

“So, what? People come here to talk about you and dress like you? And you guys just thought to check it out for kicks?”

“Fuck no. We didn’t,” groaned Dean.

“We—we were invited without being told what it was. Sort of.”

Neither Sam or Dean was in a hurry to expand on the subject matter. Gabriel catching them at the event was already embarrassing enough, even if they had been tricked into coming and wished dearly it didn’t exist.

“Anyway, how about we get out of here and talk,” said Sam as he tried to nudge Gabriel away from the entrance.

“Talk?”

“About joining the team. To help us. Please? Look, just hear us out. A fair conversation with no tricks and no one trying to kill anyone,” he added, glancing at Dean who was not happy about that last remark. “And after that, if you’re still not convinced, fine. We can go back to trying to kill each other.”

“Hmmm. Anything to add, Dean?” said Gabriel with an eyebrow lifted.

“We could use all the help we can get,” he finally said after a long pause. “Plus, I’m not opposed to ditching this horror show.”

Pursing his lips, Gabriel stared at them for a long time as he pondered on Sam’s suggestion. He then took a good look at the room which was exuding a high energy of excitement.

“All right,” said Gabriel in a playful tone. “I’ll tell you what, since I’ve gone through the trouble of locating you two idiots, I guess that waiting a little longer before payback time starts won’t be that much of an issue. So, I’ll listen to your speeches, answer your questions seriously and take your offer into consideration. And then, I’ll give you an honest answer.”

Sam and Dean sighed in relief.

“One condition though,” Gabriel then added.

“What?”

“We do this here. In the midst of all this. While participating. And you’ll have the duration of this event to convince me.”

Frustrated, Dean asked, “What? Why?”

There was a short hesitation, as though Gabriel was weighing his words, and then he said, “Because you guys are obviously bothered by this thing, which I find absolutely hilarious. If you’re about to get all overly dramatic in trying to recruit me for your cause, we need to balance this thing out. And witnessing you guys not only attending the celebration, but being actually involved in it, that’s the perfect cherry on top.”

Clenching his jaw, Dean said, “You suck, you know that?”

“That’s still my only offer. Take it or leave it.”

“One hour here and then—” Sam had tried to counter, but Gabriel shook his head.

“Here. Within these premises. No leaving. Not even myself,” he said, resting his hand on his chest.

“Fine, here. But can we not mingle?” said Sam.

“Par-ti-ci-pa-ti-on. It’s key,” said Gabriel, which was met with scowls from both Sam and Dean. “Come on, guys, you might even enjoy yourselves. What better place than in the middle of your fan base to convince me how awesome you two chuckleheads are?”

Sam pursed his lips. “No tricks?”

“Oh,” said Gabriel, laughing, “about that, yeah... I will definitely tamper with this event. Give the night the little kick it might need.”

“Gabriel, you—”

“Relax. No one will be harmed. That, I promise. I’ll just…make the evening a little more interesting. That won’t be hard to do, anyway…” he said, scanning around, unimpressed at the surroundings.

“Meaning what?” groaned Dean.

“You’ll see.”

Sam and Dean sighed. One look at each other and they immediately knew that they were both willing to take the risk.

“You really are going to take the time to listen to us? Really listen?”

“I will. I swear.”

His words had sounded sincere, so Sam and Dean nodded at him in agreement.

“Fine. Deal.”

“Terrific.”

The three of them stared at each other for a long silent minute.

“Shall we proceed, then?” Gabriel gestured them towards the crowded room. “We already missed the begi—oh, wait a minute! We should dress up for the occasion,” he said with a mischievous smile as he wiggled his eyebrows.

Once he was satisfied that no one was paying attention to them, he snapped his fingers and was then magically wearing his grey janitor uniform. The one he had been wearing at Crawford Hall the first time they had met him. And for the final touch, he gracefully waved his hand, and a candy bar manifested itself in his hand.

“Cute,” said Dean, unamused.

“I figured I should follow your lead and go as myself.”

“One, you’re not a janitor or a trickster,” said Dean. “And two, we aren’t dressed like this to blend in. This _is_ us,” he snapped at him.

“That could be arranged… Who do you want to be?”

“Myself,” said Sam and Dean at the same time.

“How about we trade. Sam is Dean and Dean is Sam?” said Gabriel.

“NO.”

“Yeah, you’re right. We can do better than that.” His face suddenly lit up. “Oohh. I know.”

“No. No dressing up or whatever,” protested Dean.

“Participation, guys.”

Dean sighed in frustration as he looked towards the ceiling, and one finger snap later, it was bright yellow converse and black frame glasses for Dean and a dark blue hoodie with pins on his chest for Sam. Both had wireless microphone headsets, as well as belts equipped with additional gear that neither of them were sure what it was, and as they took a moment to observe one another, they then let out sighs of exasperation when they noticed the “Ghostfacers” stickers on their chests.

“Really? Those two idiots?” 

“Oh, come on!” groaned Dean.

“Get comfy, boys. I’m just getting started. Now, shall we?”

Even though there were still plenty of seats left in the back, the three of them stood behind that last row, as they waited for the introduction Becky had previously mentioned. Based on the couple of people coming back and forth on the stage, following the event manager’s directives, it appeared that the event was running slightly late due to technical difficulties.

Dean, feeling incredibly uncomfortable, whispered to Gabriel, who was right next to him, “How did you find us, anyway? Cas took us off the grid. Even he can’t know where we are unless we tell him. We randomly stumbled on you last week…but today?”

Observing the stage, Gabriel said, “I know a guy…who knows a guy, who knows a guy, who knows a demon. I had a little chat and voilà.”

Frowning, Sam said, “A demon told you where we were?”

“He had a vague idea of where you were. But yes. He’s been keeping an eye on you.”

“Gross. Why?”

“Because he’s shy and likes to take things slow,” said Gabriel in a mocking voice. “Why do you think? Given that we are at the eleventh hour and your involvement in all this, knowing the location of the Winchester boys is powerful information.”

“Why didn’t he come after us if he knows where we are, then?” said Sam after pondering on what Gabriel had just told them. “And who is he?”

“I didn’t say he knew exactly where you were. I said he had a vague _idea_. Which was better than most. Starting from there, I followed the breadcrumbs.” Crossing his arms over his chest, Gabriel then added, “As for why he is simply tracking you instead of gunning for your heads, I’m sure he has his reasons, but he wasn’t in a sharing mood regarding that part. I have a feeling that he’ll introduce himself soon enough.”

“You could just tell us.”

“And ruin the surprise, Sam? After all his efforts? That would be mean.”

“He’s a demon,” argued Dean. “Assuming we’re walking out of here alive—”

“Thanks.”

“—it would be great if, for once, we’d have a head’s up.”

Smiling, Gabriel said, “Relax, he’s cool. Sort of.”

Swearing under his breath, Dean then made the firm decision to do what he had been resisting to do the moment Sam had suggested his insane plan of trying to convince Gabriel. He retrieved his cell phone from his jacket pocket and started dialing.

“What are you doing?” asked Gabriel.

“I’m calling Cas.”

“I didn’t say you could call for back up.”

“You didn’t say we couldn’t include him, either. Not that I don’t trust you, but I feel like things might be a little more evened out if he was here.”

“Boys. So dramatic. I promised I wouldn’t lay a finger on you. So to speak.”

“I’m still calling him,” said Dean, bringing his phone to his ear. “And besides, maybe he can convince you if we can’t.” Turning his back to the stage, he listened to the dial tone for a short moment, until Castiel answered the phone. “Cas, hey! Um, can you meet us? We’re in Vermilion. Ohio. It’s not, like, urgent, but Sam and I need your help with something,” he said as his eyes fell onto Gabriel at the word “something.” After clearing his throat, he continued, “We’re at the Pineview Hotel. And, um, it’s—there’s this… _event_ and—” There was a short pause and then Dean blinked. “What? What—what do you mean you know?”

Confused, he turned around, with his phone still glued to his ear.

And then, within the seated crowd, someone stood up,

And Sam and Dean felt their jaws drop.

“Oh, look! Your huggy-bear is already here!” said Gabriel, nudging one elbow into Dean’s ribs.

Castiel saluted them from his spot, and after being told to sit down by the people in the row behind him, he paused a moment. Dean was convinced Castiel must have been tempted to simply teleport to their side, but he decided against it and began moving down the row with difficulty.

“What the hell,” breathed Dean.

“What is he doing here?” asked Sam.

“I have no freaking clue.” Dean shot an angry look at Gabriel. “Did you do this?”

“Nope. But I wish I did, considering the emotional toll it’s putting you in. What’s the problem? You were just calling him to join us anyway.”

“That’s not the same thing,” muttered Dean more to himself than Gabriel.

The event manager finally welcomed everyone to officially launch the event. He reminded people of a few panels that were taking place later in the afternoon, to which Gabriel could not help smirking as he felt Dean stirring next to him at the mere mention of the “Homoerotic subtext.”

His good humor suddenly dissipated, however, not long after the man on stage announced the so-called Carver Edlund.

Before Chuck could even reach the center of the stage, waving shyly at the crowd, he glanced quickly at Sam and Dean, and then in a fraction of a second, he froze when he noticed Gabriel.

Their eyes met and Chuck continued walking to the microphone.

“Oh. _Oh_.” Gabriel let his arms fall to his sides as he stared at the stage. “Son of a raspberry.” 

Sam and Dean followed his gaze, confused at his alarmed state.

“What?”

“That—that, um—” and he then shut his mouth, unable to say another word.

“That’s Chuck. The author.”

“And prophet,” added Sam.

Gabriel nodded absentmindedly.

“Don’t you know about him? If you know about the books, surely, you must know about him, too?”

“Oh,” said Gabriel, “ _I_ know who that is. Don’t you worry your cute little brain about that. That is not the problem.”

“There’s a problem?” asked Dean, as Sam shot him an anxious look.

“No, I—I just didn’t think he would be here.”

“It’s the convention of his—well… _his_ book series. Why wouldn’t he be here?” asked Sam.

Taking in a deep breath, Gabriel scratched the side of his face. Still not diverting his eyes, he swallowed and said, “I—how may I say this… I—I never, _ever_ , thought _He_ would bother. Like…”

And then he let out another sigh.

Frowning, Sam said, “Okay…but what does it matter if he’s here? Chuck’s okay.”

“Aside from piggy backing on our lives, you mean,” said Dean. “Which we’re totally gonna have a discussion about.”

And then Gabriel snapped out of it, and said, “Now, that will be something I need to see.” 


	2. Chapter Two: A Revealing Lunch with Holy Water Cocktails

As Gabriel was still staring at Chuck with an odd expression on his face, Castiel approached the group, after he finally, with great efforts, exited the row.

“Hello, Dean. Again.”

“Cas, what are you doing here?” he said grumpily.

“I came for the convention, of course.”

Dean shut his eyes, frustrated at Castiel’s obvious answer. “Yeah, I know that. But _why?_ Why would you be interested in any of this?”

“Because this is about you.”

Silence.

“And I thought it might be educational.”

“Educational?” Trying to ignore the fact that blood was now rushing to his cheeks, Dean cleared his throat, and said, “You know us. _Personally_. What on earth could you possibly learn about us here that you couldn’t by simply…I mean, what the hell?”

“SHHH!”

He fell silent when someone sitting not far from them had hushed him while giving him the stink eye.

And it had taken everything out of Dean to not hush back at them out of frustration. Knowing that the situation might aggravate quickly, Sam awkwardly smiled and nodded to the annoyed person as they returned their attention to Chuck who was now speaking about his “inspiration” for the books.

“I don’t understand why you are upset,” whispered Castiel to Dean. “Were you not calling me to inform me of this event?”

“No. I called so you could help us with Gabriel. Not to participate in this. _This_ is embarrassing,” he said in a low voice.

“Why? I actually find it comforting to know that people want to unite together and celebrate you and Sam.” There was a short pause and then he added, “It is always surprising to me how you and your brother—especially you—always have difficulty believing that people may enjoy your company.”

Although he kept his eyes on the crowd, Dean had no problem believing that Castiel was intensively staring at him in that precise second.

“They don’t count. They don’t know us. And they don’t know we’re real,” argued Dean.

“And despite that fact, they came here nonetheless. And they did so, dressed as you.”

To which Dean made a face.

Castiel glanced to their right. “You mentioned Gabriel. Why is he here?”

As briefly as he could, Dean then recounted to Castiel their previous conversation and the arrangement that he and Sam agreed with Gabriel.

“How is it going so far?”

“Not great. Sam might have appealed to his senses for now, but if we don’t manage to wheel him onto our side by the end of this thing… we’ll be majorly boned.”

“I’m not sure how you expect me to succeed where you failed.”

Dean pursed his lips. “Just—just try. We’ll do the same. Look, I’m not even sure if it’s a good idea on paper, but we do need all the help we can get. So, I guess it’s worth a try.”

With this in mind, Sam, Dean and Castiel each then reflected on how to approach the task at hand, all the while listening to Chuck’s answers, like the rest of the audience.

Which was an incredibly uncomfortable thing to do for the boys. Dean kept shifting on his feet every time someone mentioned any theory regarding his behavior, future and—God help him—his sexuality.

And those were the less disturbing aspects being discussed.

He let out sighs of frustration. He swore under his breath. And he rolled his eyes more times that he could count.

If he was to never hear the word “subtext” again for the rest of this life, it would be too soon.

As for Sam, while he wasn’t having such a visibly strong reaction as his brother was, it would be important to note that the sore topic of Ruby was amplifying his apprehensions. He could feel the frenzy spread in his chest, and resisting the urge to cut in and explain himself was quickly becoming difficult when someone commented on the matter. 

What was frustrating him the most about this, however, was that they had reached their conclusions about her—the right ones, too, as it turned out—based on limited information and all prior to Dean’s damnation, as well.

They didn’t know the full extent about the demon blood or his summer with Ruby.

And the hard truth had already been difficult to digest as it was, especially considering the terrible consequences it had brought, but to have it all on display like this did not help his confidence in that moment.

Which was a problem, given what he, Dean and Castiel were trying to accomplish here.

Thankfully, due to Becky’s outburst, which was discomforting and _almost_ endearing, it wasn’t a topic highly discussed.

After what felt like an eternity, the painful first part of the Q and A session came to an end, and the four of them exited the room with the rest of the crowd.

“God, I feel like I need to take a shower or something,” said Dean, as they broke from the cluster who was happily directing themselves to the multiple booths of merchandise.

“I think you better brace yourself because you haven’t finished your pancakes yet,” said Gabriel.

Just in that instant, a plump man wearing a leather jacket and a tall, slim man wearing a hoodie waltzed in front of them, as they, too, watched the crowd dispersed itself throughout the lobby. One of the many pairs of Sam and Dean walking around.

Dean recognized one of them as the first person who had welcomed him to the convention upon their arrival.

“Something weird is going on here, Sammy,” said the plump man gruffly. “Shifters, you think?”

“Or rakshasas, perhaps,” said the slim man, with an overly dramatic tone.

“Know-it-all.” And then he added, lowering the tone of his voice even more, “At least they aren’t killer clowns, huh, Sammy?”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” said Dean, unable to keep quiet.

Both men turned around, only just now assessing the group.

One look at Sam and Dean and their faces lit up when they noticed the “Ghostfacers” sticker.

“Oh, cool! I—I mean, oh _nooo_. Not you, guys.”

“Yeah, the Ghostfacers are douchebags,” said plump Dean in the most unconvincing tone.

They then turned to the other half of the group, observing Gabriel and Castiel. “Darn,” said the slim man, feigning alarm. “It must be Tuesday. The trickster’s here. Dean, we better leave before he traps me in a loop again!”

“Pig n’ a Poke,” said his companion and they both began chuckling.

Dean was not amused.

“Seriously though,” said slim Sam to Gabriel, “kudos. You look exactly how I imagined him.”

“Thank you.” And then, as he took a bite of his candy bar, he wiggled his eyebrows at Sam who, in response, rolled his eyes.

“And here we have…” and the other Dean stopped mid-sentence when his eyes fell on Castiel. “Um…here’s…”

They both looked at each other, confused at Castiel’s attire.

“It’s, um…”

“Constantine?” said the scarecrow who was walking by.

“Oh. I see it.”

“Yeah,” said slim Sam. “I was gonna say Agent Dale Cooper.”

His friend nodded at his comment, while the scarecrow stared at him with puzzlement.

“Who’s that?”

“Really? Wow.”

“But Constantine makes more sense, now that I look at it.”

All three of them were examining Castiel from head to toe. Plump Dean even reached out to the collar of his coat, taking in the texture of the material.

For a long minute.

And since Castiel wasn’t doing anything to stop him, that was when Dean had had enough and stepped in.

“Okaaaay,” he said as he pushed plump Dean’s hands away. “He’s not a play doll. How about we cut the poking?”

“Sorry,” said the other Dean. “I swear I didn’t mean to get all handsy on your boyfriend.”

“My _what_?”

“But why dress as Constantine though?” asked slim Sam, cutting Dean off. “It—it is who you are dressed as, right?”

Everyone stared at Castiel.

After a brief glance at Sam and Dean, who subtly nodded at him, Castiel answered in a low voice to the other three men, “Yes. Constantine.”

And Gabriel joyfully chewed on his candy bar.

“I mean, I get how neat a crossover would be—”

“Right?” said plump Dean. “I totally see Dean being BFF with Constantine.”

“And throw in Lucifer, and I am _so_ in.”

“Be careful with what you wish for,” said Gabriel under his breath.

“But this is a _Supernatural_ convention,” said the scarecrow firmly. “The first ever. Do you know how hard it was to put this thing together? With Carver Edlund present, no less?”

Gabriel hurriedly took another bite of his candy bar.

“I—it’s cool and all, but it was supposed to be _Supernatural_. And nothing else.”

As they all watched the scarecrow walk away, the other Sam then turned to Castiel and said, “Don’t worry about him. I think it was mentioned somewhere, but whatever.”

“Yeah. It’s still cool. I guess the scarecrow needs a heart as well as a brain.”

And both men let out short laughs.

After everyone traded awkward looks, except for Gabriel who was simply enjoying the situation, slim Sam and plump Dean wished them a good day, before rejoining the rest of the buzzing crowd, which had gathered around Chuck.

As he was busy with curious fans, despite the thorough inquiry he had just been subjected to, Becky, on the other hand, was making a beeline for them with enthusiasm.

“Sam! Good! You’re still here!” she said excitedly. “You never showed at the—” and then she froze, as she noticed his clothes. She let out a gleeful squeal. “I should have known you would be ready to whip up some cosplay out of the blue! You’re so clever and practical. That’s awesome!” Staring straight at him, she then added, “So, what do you think so far?”

“Um. Great. That’s, um, really…interesting.”

“And that’s just the beginning! What are you thinking of checking out? What about the Big Hunt? But that’s not until later tonight,” she said hurriedly before he could say something. “What are you up to now? Chuck and I were talking about getting a bite to eat. Care to join us?” While her statement implied that she was inviting their whole group, she specifically asked her question to Sam. “You can bring your friends, too,” she said when her eyes fell on Gabriel and Castiel. “Hi! I’m Becky!” she waved at them.

“Hello, I’m Castiel.”

“Castiel! The angel who rescued Dean?” Her eyes widened.

“Yes. Although, I wasn’t the only—”

“Oh my God!” She bounced on the spot. “This is amazing!” And then, she suddenly stopped, as though she wanted to calm herself and took a mini step towards him. “I know I’m not supposed to know, because the rest of the books covering that part of the story haven’t been published yet—”

“Story?” scoffed Dean.

“—so, I won’t tell anyone…but I know all about it and this is exciting!” Turning to Gabriel, she asked, “What about you?”

Smirking at her, Gabriel waited a few seconds, as though he was making a final decision on his answer, until he replied, “Gabriel, _my lady_.”

She seemed charmed at first, but her cheerfulness instantly disappeared when she finally assessed his outfit.

“Wait, you—are you— _You_!” She had said it in such a grave accusatory tone that it made Sam and Dean jump. “You!” she repeated, pointing her finger at Gabriel as she charged at him. “You—you’re the trickster!”

She hit on his chest, not harshly, but enough to stun Gabriel at her outburst.

“Whoa! Easy, there.” 

“Chuck told me who you really are and—YOU DON’T DESERVE TO STAND NEXT TO SAM LIKE THIS!”

Sam and Dean, as gently as they could, held her back from hitting him again.

“Becky, it’s—it’s okay. He’s, um, a friend.”

“What?” She finally stopped moving and stared at Sam bluntly. “He—how can you say that?”

Not knowing what else to say, he simply answered, “We’re cool. It’s—Gabriel is a friend. We want him to be here.”

She frowned at him in disbelief, which Dean had to admit was rather rational for her. After a short hesitation on her part, she stopped resisting their hold and took a step back, while fixing her shirt and hair.

“Fine. So, are you coming to eat?” She took a deep breath and said, “ _All_ of you?”

Since they were more or less at Gabriel’s mercy, Sam, Dean and Castiel turned their eyes to him. While Dean wasn’t particularly looking forward to another awkward situation, the prospect of food, and more importantly alcohol, was enough to sell him on the idea.

But he doubted very much that a lunch with Chuck would count as _participation_.

Fortunately for him, however, Gabriel surprised him by agreeing to Becky’s invitation.

“Why not? I gotta eat anyway,” he said joyfully.

“Just, um, can you give us a sec, first, Becky?” asked Sam.

“Of course. I’ll get a table big enough for all of us.”

And she left, though not before shooting one last glare at Gabriel.

As they watched her cross the room, it didn’t take long for the group to realize that, because of her mini outburst, many people were now staring at them.

Ignoring the whispers quickly spreading throughout the room, Gabriel faced the other three and said, “So, Becky…friend of yours or Sam’s personal guard?”

Sam made an annoyed face, while Dean said, highly amused, “Definitely the second one.”

“Shut up,” scoffed Sam. He noticed a small group talking between themselves with their eyes glued on Castiel. They weren’t exactly glaring at him, which brought some relief to Sam, but it was evident that they were standing out from the sea of Sams and Deans. Refocusing his attention on Gabriel, he said, “Becky is a bit…intense—”

“That’s one word for it.”

“—but she’s okay. Sort of. She’s a fan of Chuck.”

“She seems to be much more taken by you than Chuck, Sam,” pointed out Castiel.

Beaming at him, Gabriel said, “Constantine misses nothing about that one, methinks.”

“Yes, about that,” said Castiel, “I don’t know who that is. And was I supposed to change into a particuliar outfit as well?”

“Don’t worry,” said Gabriel, tapping him on the shoulder. “I got you covered for the next round.”

“Next round?” asked Dean.

Grinning at him, Gabriel lifted his hands as though he was about to snap his fingers again, but before he had the chance to do anything else, they were all caught off guard when they heard someone hiss, “What are _you_ doing here?”

Chuck had apparently left his herd of fans and was now standing right beside them.

“You aren’t supposed to be here. _Neither_ of you are supposed to be here,” Chuck added looking at Castiel. “So, why are you here? Gabriel, what are you up to?”

“First of all,” said Gabriel, as he lowered his hand, “wow. What a welcome. Thanks.”

Chuck didn’t seem impressed with his answer.

“Second, we’re really gonna stand here and pretend like you don’t already know?”

“I don’t,” he said defensively, crossing his arms over his chest, while glancing nervously at Sam and Dean.

“Sure. Well, if that’s the case, my answer is: I needed a word with the boys. And bonus, I get to catch up with you. It’s been a while. Although, it doesn’t seem like anything’s changed. This whole thing,” he said, gesturing around them, “fans—groupies, even—this has literally you written all over it. Li-ter-al-ly.”

“Wait, you two know each other?” asked Dean.

Pretending like he didn’t hear Dean’s question, Chuck said, “That’s not—it’s not like that. I didn’t have anything to do with this. It just happened.”

“Um, guys?”

“Not taking responsibilities,” said Gabriel, tilting his head to the side, “that’s also very much like you.”

“You’re one to talk.”

“Guys?” said Sam and Dean simultaneously.

“What?” they both snapped at them, only to finally hold their tongues and glare at each other.

As Gabriel and Chuck paused their bickering, Sam and Dean studied them for a moment, hoping to make sense of what had just occurred.

But since Castiel, while still displaying his eternal deadpan expression, didn’t appear to know what it was about either, Sam, in an attempt to smooth things over, said, “How about we go eat like we said? And Chuck, maybe you can help us convince Gabriel to join us against Lucifer and the other angels. That’s why he’s here. To listen to us.”

Chuck said nothing. Only his eyes turned to Gabriel, who, in turn, chuckled at the idea.

“You truly are adorable, Sam. _Him_ convincing me to do _this_? That would be the day.”

And without further ado, he headed towards the dining room.

Sam, Dean and Castiel looked at Chuck questioningly. His sole response was a nervous shrug, and when he noticed a small group talking amongst themselves while staring at them a little too profoundly for his comfort, he then hurried after Gabriel.

The trio, left to themselves, took a moment to discuss.

“What the hell was that?” asked Dean.

“No clue. But they know each other and that’s weird,” argued Sam. “Gabriel not telling us that he knew Chuck? Yeah, that I buy it. He’s kept things to himself before.”

“But Chuck not telling us? Yeah, that’s weird. I guess it’s not ‘vital info,’” said Dean as he gestured air quotes, “but I really don’t see why he wouldn’t have told us.”

“Perhaps he was instructed not to,” proposed Castiel.

Frowning at him, Sam asked, “What do you mean? By whom?”

“Angels. It wouldn’t be the first time that they have intervened. I know, for instance, that Zachariah forbade Chuck to warn you two about the angels’ real involvement in the Apocalypse, as well as the whole ordeal regarding Lilith being the last seal.”

“What?” said Dean, stunned. “You never told us that!”

“And he listened to them?” asked Sam.

“Wait—but he helped us,” pointed out Dean. “When you finally zapped me out of that room, Chuck helped us. He told us where Sam was.”

“And the moment I sent you to that church, Raphael blew me up in pieces. They were watching him. All I know is that Zachariah can be…persuasive.”

“Okay,” said Dean, reflecting on what Castiel had just said. “But what about now, then? Why aren’t we being attacked?”

“There might be more than one reason, but mostly, because you are hidden.” Castiel rested his hand on Dean’s chest, reminding him of the protective sigils he had branded them both with. “I also took necessary precautions to hide myself today, so if anyone is listening, we should be fine. And Gabriel, who is no doubt powerful enough to keep himself under the radar, being present is most likely in our favor, too. But should another angel randomly come here…”

“Let’s hope that they have better things to do today, then,” said Dean grimly. Suddenly tired of everything, he let out a deep sigh. “So, Chuck may be holding back information from us. How the hell can we deal with this without tipping off the angels? And what exactly has he been keeping from us?”

“One issue at a time. We’ll deal with Chuck later. Our priority is Gabriel,” Sam reminded them. “How can we make him take us seriously in the middle of all this?”

“Just give him the puppy dog thing and we’re good to go,” said Dean, smirking at him.

Sam rolled his eyes.

“What is the puppy dog thing?” asked Castiel.

“Nothing,” said Sam. “Dean is just being an idiot. Seriously though, how can we make this work when there are so many distractions?”

“I guess we corner him one by one throughout the afternoon?”

“I don’t want to hound the guy,” said Sam, worried. “The goal is to make him see we can work together, not nag him to death.”

“Seeing as he seems to already have made up his mind, I think nagging will be a necessity.”

“I agree that individual interaction would be a better advantage to get our points across,” said Castiel. “But since Gabriel is waiting for us, with Chuck and Becky, in the dining area, I suggest that we take the opportunity to collectively try right now. It is under my understanding that sharing a meal is the perfect setting for a discussion.” And then, as though he realized what he was saying, he added, “Even if Gabriel is evidently not human…”

“Doesn’t matter. I like it. And if we blow it by the end of lunch, then we’ll just have to go one-on-one.”

Deeply hoping it wouldn’t come to that, Sam and Castiel nodded in agreement, and the three of them headed towards the dining area at a determined pace, each of them trying to exhude the confidence they wished to possess in that moment.

The dining area was modest and, most importantly to Dean, nearly empty. That way, at least, they had a fair chance to carry a decent conversation, even if it would be in front of Becky and Chuck.

Not an ideal condition, but it would have to do.

And who knew? Perhaps food would put Gabriel in a good enough mood that he would agree to help them before dessert was served.

One could hope.

The moment the Winchesters and Castiel approached the table, Becky, who was seated next to Chuck, happily gestured to Sam to take the empty seat on her left.

Before Sam could react, Dean immediately sat on Gabriel’s left and pressed Castiel to take the seat next to him, thus leaving Sam with the last option: sitting between Becky and Gabriel.

Which he did rather awkwardly considering Becky’s heart-eyes for him, something that amused both Dean and Gabriel, but seemed to only make Chuck incredibly discouraged as he fidgeted on his seat.

As soon as everyone was settled, the waiter came in to drop off some additional menus and informed them of the specials of the day. Since Chuck, Becky and Gabriel were ready to order, and a quick scan of the menu sufficed for Sam and Dean to make a selection, the group didn’t waste any time and began their order.

Sam and Dean opted for their respective favorite dishes, namely a salad for Sam and bacon cheese burger for Dean. Becky and Chuck selected a club sandwich and garden salad, and while Castiel wasn’t planning on ordering anything, Gabriel took it upon himself to order a Holy Water cocktail for everyone.

“Add a shot of coconut rum too, please. And keep them coming.” And at everyone’s confusion, he said, “It is a legit drink and y’all don’t know what you’ve been missing.”

Dean bit the inside of his cheek at the idea of drinking anything else other than whiskey, which he deeply craved in that instant.

But it turned out that Gabriel was right. Once the waiter arrived with the drinks, Dean took a sip of his drink with caution and was pleased at the taste.

A fact that he kept to himself.

He wasn’t the only one enjoying Gabriel’s treat. Becky had even given him an approving nod after tasting it, and Castiel—quite surprisingly—reached the bottom of his glass at a speed which impressed both Chuck and Dean.

“This is delicious, Gabriel.”

“Told ya.”

And he politely signaled the waiter for another round, which was provided promptly.

As much as the trio had planned on tackling their conversation with Gabriel, they weren’t exactly granted many chances to do so after the waiter had left their table. Becky, who was loquacious as ever, spent the better part of the following ten minutes questioning Sam about various subjects, from his childhood to his favourite books. And though Sam wasn’t particularly keen on discussing personal issues, nor did he appreciate being put on the spot like that, being the polite guy that he was, he still answered as truthfully as he dared to in the hope that it would satisfy Becky’s curiosity, and, not to mention, so he could move on to the more _pressing_ discussion.

But the questions kept piling up, leaving him no opportunity to ask questions of his own to Gabriel.

Now, given that Sam was evidently busy with Becky, Dean and Castiel had then attempted to subtly initiate another discussion with Gabriel on their side of the table. It became clear to Dean, however, that despite Gabriel’s genuine efforts to give him and Castiel his full attention, he was also increasingly invested in Becky and Sam’s conversation.

Which, of course, revolved solely around Sam himself.

And as Dean watched Gabriel constantly turn his gaze towards Becky and Sam, quite literally keeping an eye on them, what he found particularly interesting was that he saw his own brother do the same.

But Sam didn’t do so because he felt uncomfortable. Not because he was trying to know how the conversation on the other side of the table was going.

It was because he wanted to check if Gabriel was listening to his conversation.

Dean felt a smile creep at the corner of his mouth and decided that Becky’s interrogation, no matter how adorable and well-meant, was now over.

“So, Gabriel, Sam wanted to know something,” he said loudly, after clearing his throat, causing Sam to stop talking mid-sentence.

And the whole table turned silent.

“And what was that?” asked Gabriel to Sam.

Finally freed of Becky, for the moment at least, Sam gave her an apologetic smile and turned to Gabriel. Following Dean’s lead, he said, “Yes, I—we wanted to pick your brain about a problem we are having.”

After observing him for a long minute, Gabriel finally said, “And what would this problem be?”

“We’re trying to—to find the Colt.”

Castiel and Dean exchanged a look. Not the topic either of them would have opened with, but they had his attention now.

And not only Gabriel’s.

“Ooooh! Does that mean you guys will finally meet Crowley?” said Becky.

“You know who Crowley is?” Gabriel asked her, stunned.

“Who the fuck is Crowley?” said Dean. He turned to Castiel and Sam for clarification, but both were as lost as he was. “And why is he relevant?”

“Crowley,” she repeated. “The king of the crossroads.”

“A demon?”

She nodded. “You guys know about him, right?”

“Um, no. We don’t,” said Sam.

“How do _you_ know about Crowley?” asked Chuck, surprised as everyone else at the table.

“Chuck, it was in the books, of course!”

Silence.

“You know,” she said, nodding her head, “he’s the demon Bela gave the Colt to after stealing it from you guys.” She stopped talking when she realized everyone was staring at her. Her enthusiasm was as confusing as her information to them all. “Everyone knows this.” And to make her point, she then stopped a pair of Sam and Dean who were just walking by. It was slim Sam and plump Dean again. “Quick question: do you know what happened to the Colt after Bela stole it from Sam—you guys?”

“It’s the demon named Crowley who has it! Someone who I really ought to pay a visit… Perhaps he will help me rescue Dean from hell,” said slim Sam, looking at the ceiling for a second, only to immediately shift his gaze downwards, with a fake sad face.

“That’s preposterous,” said Castiel, sounding almost insulted. His second drink was empty in front of him. “A simple demon wouldn’t be able to rescue Dean from hell.”

“Thank you,” said Dean to the other pair of Sam and Dean, as he rested his hand on Castiel’s shoulder to keep him quiet. He gave them a smile, so they could continue on their way.

Once the fan boys were out of earshot, Becky said, “See, I told you. Crowley is most likely the one to have the Colt. He’s definitely where you should start looking, anyway.”

“Huh,” said Gabriel. He appeared to be genuinely intrigued at this information. “Well, there you go, boys. You don’t need me. You have her and the rest of the fan base to help you.”

And while Becky was evidently grateful for the compliment, she still watched him with a look filled with skepticism.

Sam remained silent, but he eyed Chuck for a few seconds, wondering if the Colt’s whereabouts and Crowley were also pieces of information Zachariah had instructed him to not mention to them. If that was the case, it therefore implied that this information was probably worth knowing.

The conversation momentarily paused when the food and additional drinks finally arrived.

Dean eagerly took a bite of his burger as soon as it was within his reach, hearing his stomach practically growl at the sight of his plate.

Castiel appeared as delighted as Gabriel to be handed a new drink, and Sam was desperately trying to avoid the fact that Becky was watching him eating as though it was the most fascinating thing that she had ever laid eyes on.

Much to Chuck’s apparent disappointment.

Not much was said during the meal except for a few fans who stopped by to say “Hello,” to Chuck and wish everyone to have a great meal before continuing on their way.

Once everyone had emptied their plates (and drinks for some), Gabriel was ready to pursue the rest of the day.

“So, based on the schedule,” he said, observing one of the numerous convention’s advertisements displayed in the room, “what would you like to do? What’s the next panel?”

“Frightened Little Boy: The Secret Life of Dean,” blurted out Becky.

“Cool. Who’s up for that?” asked Gabriel gleefully.

Castiel promptly raised his hand, but Dean, seizing his sleeve, immediately lowered his arm, which granted him a frown from his friend. “We are supposed to participate.”

“Cas isn’t wrong, Dean,” chanted Gabriel.

“We’ll participate in _othe_ r things.”

“That’s fine. I’m pretty sure the other panel is the one about homoerotic subtext and I have no problem attending that one,” said Gabriel with a grin on his face.

Dean took a swig of his drink. “We aren’t doing that one, either.”

“But I really wish to attend the one about you,” argued Castiel.

“They are both about him,” said Becky. “Technically.”

Sam was grateful to have been drinking from his glass at that precise moment, making it far easier for him to hide his grin.

Dean, clenching his jaw, said, “Well, that’s just—can we focus on what’s important for a second?”

“Dean’s right,” said Sam, after putting down his drink. “We’ll mingle, Gabriel. We said we would. But we have the right to decide in what way and we also agreed on discussing a few things, too. We were getting somewhere before the food arrived and I’d like to go back to it for a moment.”

“Thank you,” sighed Dean. Glad to know that Sam was as annoyed by this event as he was, he leaned back on his seat and shot a displeased look at Castiel, who didn’t appear to be that perturbed at Dean’s irritation.

It was then Gabriel’s turn to sigh deeply.

But he didn’t roll his eyes or protest. Instead, he said, “How about we do both then?”

And he snapped his fingers.

Gasps and a bit of commotion were heard around the room. There was a moment when everyone at the table held their breaths as they all realized what had happened.

“WHAT THE FUCK.”

Everyone sitting at the table was now completely naked.

Except for Castiel, who, as a fashion statement, no doubt, still wore his blue tie.

Solely his tie.

Becky, who had been holding the dessert menu in front of her at that precise moment, slowly brought it closer to her as to make sure her chest was fully hidden from any angle.

And while mild panic might have spread through her mind for a second, it quickly dissipated when she finally noticed Sam’s bare torso.

However, the same could not be said about the others sitting at the table, especially not Dean.

Desperately fidgeting on his seat, as though he couldn’t make up his mind to remain on his spot or run off, he finally crossed his arms over his chest and stared down at his plate awkwardly.

And determined to not look at Castiel.

Castiel, on the other hand, much like Gabriel, remained seated in a nonchalant manner, completely unfazed by this turn of events.

Sam, picking up another dessert menu, imitating Becky, noticed to his surprise that it wasn’t solely the people at their table, either. Many other people in the room were walking around in their birthday suit, making Sam glad that he was sitting down.

“Gabriel, what—why did you do this?”

“You wanted to have an open discussion? Consider yourselves exposed now.”

“Open? Exposed? You—”

“But isn’t it, like, _wrong_ to force people?” asked Sam before Dean was about to spit out an insult. “Especially to those who have nothing to do with this?”

“Oh, I didn’t force this on anyone. This place turned into a nudist camp-ish only to those who didn’t object to the principle in the first place. Anyone else stayed the same and aren’t noticing the change. Them and the few minors roaming around, of course.”

And then, proving his point, the waiter, who was still fully dressed, reached their table to bring another set of drinks to Gabriel and Castiel. The man made no mention of their poor dress code, nor did he act weird in their presence.

“So, you’re saying that if we’re like this, it’s because we’re okay with this?” asked Sam, once the waiter was gone. “Like, _deep down_?”

“Yup.”

“Um, I disagree,” spat Dean.

“Complaint filed. But you’re still going to enjoy the nippy air for a little while, Dean-o.”

Turning his eyes back to his empty plate as a small group of twenty something men walked by, Dean said, “Can I please have the last dessert menu, then?”

Amused, Gabriel picked it up and said, “How about I read it to you instead?”

Dean made a face. Extending his hand, he said, “I’d rather read it myself, thanks.”

“I don’t know…”

“I’ll get another one for you, Dean,” said Castiel. Determined to help him, he stood up, which did nothing to help Dean's discomfort.

“Cas, dude!” yelped Dean as he covered his face with his hands. “No. Just—sit down.”

“What?”

“Sit. Down.”

Confused, he stared at Dean, perhaps far too long than he should have—definitely longer than Dean would have wanted—until he took his seat back.

“I was just trying to help.”

“I know but—it’s okay, I changed my mind.”

With one hand still covering his eyes, Dean asked Gabriel, “Can you please change us back to the way we were?”

“No moving backwards. Only forwards.”

“But—”

“So, just out of curiosity,” pressed Gabriel, interrupting him, “why do you need the Colt?”

“Wha—what?”

“Why do you need the Colt?” repeated Gabriel quite nonchalantly.

With caution, Dean lifted his eyes and met Sam’s. Taking the bait, Dean answered, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world, “To use it against Lucifer.”

There was a short pause, and then Gabriel said, “Right. Cool.”

“What?”

“Nothing.” He seized his drink and nearly gulped it down in one go.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he repeated. His gaze had shifted to the table at first, but for a second, Dean noticed him glimpsing at Chuck, only to divert his eyes again.

He almost seemed sad. Much like when he had confessed his true identity a few days before.

“In a totally unrelated matter,” said Gabriel, returning to his usual playful tone, “Cas, I know you hadn’t made much progress last week, but any development with your search for Dad since then?”

“No, unfortunately.”

“Hmmm. And Chuck, here, didn’t volunteer any pointers to you at all?”

“No. But this is the first time we’ve interacted since I’ve begun my quest.” He then slowly turned his head to Chuck.

As did everyone else.

“Do you know anything?” asked Sam.

Gabriel and Chuck exchanged a look as everyone waited for Chuck’s answer.

There was a long pause, during which Chuck cleared his throat as he nervously scratched his head, until he finally said, “Nothing that could help you, no.”

Confused, rightfully so, Dean said, “What does that even mean? Do you know something or not?”

“Of course, not.”

And he crossed his arms over his chest and looked down on his plate.

“Wow. That was convincing,” said Gabriel.

“No—I—Gabriel, stop,” said Chuck.

“Me? What am I doing besides asking questions? In fact, I’m not even the one who asked you—”

“You know what I—stop.” And his last word had been said in a grave tone. A much more serious one than the boys and Castiel had ever heard him adopt before.

“Or what?” said Gabriel firmly. Almost in a defiant manner. “What is ‘the prophet of the Lord’ going to do about it? Hmm?”

Chuck pursed his lips for a moment, staring Gabriel right in the eye, only to lean back in his chair. “Nothing.”

“That’s what I thought.”

“For now.”

Gabriel smirked at him. “I guess we’ll just have to see then, won’t we?”

“Um, guys? What’s going on?” asked Sam.

“Yeah, seriously. What is this?”

Silence.

“Guys?”

But Chuck and Gabriel simply stared at each other, equally obstinate to not utter another word on the matter.

Frustrated at their stubbornness, Dean said, “Fine, if you aren’t going to share with the rest of the class, at least change us back. I’m cold.”

Snapping out of his staring contest with Chuck, Gabriel turned to him with a lifted eyebrow.

“Please, Gabriel,” asked Castiel gently, clearly pleading on behalf of Dean more than for his own comfort.

Gabriel shot one last look at Chuck, and bracing for the worst, Sam and Dean held their breaths as they watched him snap his fingers once again.

But it appeared that their apprehension had been unfounded.

Everyone else around the room and at their table appeared to have returned to their original state. Castiel was wearing his iconic trench coat. Gabriel was dressed as a janitor again. The fans and hotel staff were fully clothed as they had been, and so were Becky and Chuck.

Thus, for half a second, as the air no longer felt nippy, Sam and Dean were relieved to be fully dressed again, even if it was in those ridiculous outfits.

But the initial feeling of relief vanished quickly as they took a better look at their clothes.

No flannels or Ghostfacers stickers and gear. Gabriel had meant what he had said about moving forward.

Sam was dressed as a priest, while Dean had on tight jeans and a red top with a low neckline.

“What the hell! What—who are we supposed to be?”

Becky’s eyes bounced from Sam to Dean until she gasped loudly. She waved her hands in the air excitedly and said, “Are they ‘Father Gil’ and ‘Casey?’ Like, the demons who possessed them, anyway?”

Gabriel lifted his drink in salutation.

“You guessed that just like that?” Sam asked Becky, actually impressed, as he barely remembered their names himself.

“OH, COME ON! I’m the chick?” cried Dean once he finally gathered to whom Becky was referring.

“The _demon_ chick,” specified Gabriel. “But yeah. Essentially.” He grabbed one of untouched drinks on the table and observed Sam, while Dean was having another mini meltdown.

Feeling his stare on him, Sam frowned at him. “What?”

“Nothing. Maybe I ought to slow down on these because I was just thinking that—um, that’s a good look on you.”

Not knowing what to say, Sam simply replied, “Is there a reason you dressed us like this?”

“YES, I’D LIKE TO KNOW?” yelled Dean, which only prompted a lot of heads to turn in order to investigate the disturbance. He swore under his breath and shaped his hands into fists as he leaned backwards into his chair, with the firm determination to not pay attention to the whispers around them.

As Dean was trying to calm down, Castiel said, “Gabriel, answer the question. Why these attires for Sam and Dean? For any of us? Is there a reason?”

“Other than my entertainment? Of course.”

“Wait, there is?” said Sam, genuinely intrigued. “What is it?”

“Don’t worry, I actually provided you with additional visual aid this time around.”

“What do you—” began saying Dean, but before he could finish the rest of his sentence, he got interrupted by someone standing next to them.

“Dean?”

“Sam?”

“Guys?”

It was at that moment that the trio noticed that some people had gathered around their table. For a brief moment, given the figures’ familiarity, Dean had believed that they had simply been people attending the convention. But his jaw dropped once he realized that they were the real deal.

Bobby Singer.

Rufus Turner.

Jo and Ellen Harvelle.

Even Ed Zeddmore and Harry Spengler. The freaking Ghostfacers.

They were all here at the convention.

And they had questions.


	3. Chapter Three: The Tricky Task

“Holy crap,” breathed Sam.

“Boys? Where the hell are we? What is this?”

Bobby slowly wheeled himself closer to the table, as Jo followed him, and Rufus and Ellen scanned the place with hands on their hips, ready to reach for their weapons at the first sign of a potential threat.

Meanwhile, the Ghostfacers, though obviously confused about their surroundings as well, turned their attention to the convention’s schedule.

Shaking his head, Dean covered his face with his hands as he muttered something like, “This is not happening.”

“What the hell is going on?” asked Jo firmly.

Sam and Dean exchanged a worried look. Neither of them wished to elaborate on the matter.

Castiel, on the other hand, was happy to oblige with an answer.

“This is the first _Supernatural_ convention. An event so the fans of the books can celebrate Sam and Dean’s story together.”

“The _what_ of the _what_?” 

“You really had to put it like that, Cas?” said Dean.

“How else should I describe it? That is the perfect description of the event.”

“Hold on, this is Cas?” asked Ellen.

“You two losers got a book deal?” asked Ed, who was now standing behind Chuck and Becky.

“It’s probably because of our exposure,” said his friend Harry.

While Jo was squinting at them, Ellen and Bobby simply stared back and forth at Sam and Dean, and Rufus, seemingly satisfied with Castiel’s answer, nodded as he looked around. ~~~~

“Cool,” he said. “I didn’t know they had a convention for the books.”

“You—you know about the books?”

“Yeah. I read them.”

“You _read_ them?” asked Dean, outraged.

“What? Was I not supposed to?” asked Rufus. “It’s Bobby’s fault. He told me all about them.”

“Thanks for not throwing me under the bus.”

“Always my pleasure, Bobby.”

“Books? What books?”

“Still doesn’t explain how we all popped here out of the blue,” pointed out Ellen.

“Or what you boys are wearing.”

“Yeah, Dean,” said Rufus, “I have a question. Maybe a few. No judgment though.”

Seeing that it was about to get too much for Dean, Sam jumped in. “Guys, you’re here because _he_ brought you here.” He nodded in Gabriel’s direction, and added, “And everything is okay, no one is—”

“Argh, balls.”

“Who’s that?”

“The damn trickster.”

“Hmmm. Someone needs to catch up,” said Gabriel.

Protests and questions were then heard all at once, thus creating a massive commotion, which only brought more attention to their table.

Finally, Sam, though he hadn’t yelled, managed to hush everyone with a direct and sharp, “Hey!” Now able to hear himself think, he said to Dean and Castiel, “Maybe one of us should fill them in, while the others sort this out,” as he tapped on the table.

Becky immediately volunteered to give the grand tour to the hunters and the Ghostfacers, as well as to clarify the situation for those who needed it. Chuck and Sam hesitated on that idea, but before either of them could voice their uncertainty, she had already left the table and headed towards the merchandise booths at an impressive speed, calling for their attention.

The group obliged and followed her, once Dean mentioned they would catch with them shortly.

The moment they had left their table, Dean turned to Gabriel. “You, two things. One, why? And two, fix this.”

“All in good time, Dean.”

That was not the answer Dean had wanted, and Sam and Castiel were worried that Gabriel would push him a little too far.

“Why did you put me in women’s clothes?” he hissed at him.

Wanting to have his fun, Gabriel said, “And why do you say those are women’s clothes?”

“You said I’m the demon chick,” he said harshly and then tugged on his shirt.

“Your intended cosplay is a demon wearing a woman’s meat suit, that’s true. The clothes themselves, however, don’t have gender. What kind of archaic thinking is this?”

“Thanks for the precision, but can we skip the gender studies for a second and just put us back in our regular clothes? NOW? I hate this.”

“Is that so? Because I know for a fact that you’re not opposed to wearing these, especially the delicate _undergarment_ variety.” And with a sly grin on his face, he said, “But don’t worry, I made sure you had the whole package.”

And with this, Dean had finally reached his limit. About to explode, he launched at Gabriel.

“Dean, no—wait,” pleaded Sam. He had jumped to his feet, fearing the outcome. But Dean didn’t get to act on his anger. In fact, he hadn’t even been able to stand up. His footwear—stiletto boots—had caused him issues with his balance and had forced him to remain seated.

“Oh, yeah. Careful,” said Gabriel. “I really mean ‘the whole package.’”

More furious than ever, Dean, after sliding his chair and himself away from the table to facilitate his task, began untying his boots.

Once the boots were off and in hands, he stood up and said, “There. At least, now I can kick your ass.”

He hadn’t even finished his sentence, however, before he was magically wearing the boots again, thus impacting his steadiness.

The only reason why he didn’t completely fall on his ass was because Castiel came to his aid and managed to catch him just in time.

By sweeping him off his feet and into his arms.

And everyone became silent.

Sam couldn’t do anything but stare in amazement. Chuck nearly choked on his drink. And Gabriel was pleased with himself.

It took Dean a moment before reacting. A moment during which he became still as a statue and locked eyes with Castiel.

A _long_ moment.

Until he finally snapped out of it, mainly because someone whistled at them.

“You may now kiss the groom,” joked Gabriel.

“Shut up.”

“You’re right. Sam should be the one to say it considering his whole get up. Makes it official.”

“I don’t think it’s the outfit that makes it official,” argued Sam, while being amused.

“Because that is SO the issue right now?” spat Dean. He attempted to free himself from Castiel’s arms, but it turned out to be more difficult than he thought. Castiel was in no hurry to loosen his grip. Finally, after stirring some more and still failing at his task, Dean let out a groan of frustration. “Cas? Can you put me down already?”

“I didn’t want you to fall.”

“Yes, I got that but now it’s—please?”

There was a short pause during which Castiel appeared to be hesitating, but he eventually helped Dean back on his feet.

Dean fixed his clothes as though it would erase the whole episode, and while he still wasn’t happy with the situation, his moment of anger with Gabriel had considerably diminished.

“Why is it so important to humiliate us?” he asked calmly.

“Believe it or not, Dean, that’s not what I’m trying to do.”

Gabriel had said it in such an earnest way, that it was impossible for Dean to not believe him.

Even if he was still somewhat cross with him.

“So, last time I checked the convention is still going,” continued Gabriel. “Unless you’re giving up—”

“No,” urged Sam.

Beaming at them, the archangel said, “Let’s do this.”

As Dean cautiously made his way across the dining area, with Sam and Castiel following him closely, fearing that he might trip because of his boots, he prayed that Gabriel would move on to their next outfit quickly. The tight jeans and top were already granting him curious looks as it was, and the boots were simply insufferable.

Which was why he urgently sat down next to Bobby and Jo, who were near the main entrance of the hotel, away from the talkative crowd. They learned quickly that Becky, being true to her word, had given the Ghostfacers and the four hunters a detailed account of the situation, as much as she had been privy to, anyway.

“You idjits are really trying to bring the _trickster_ on our side?”

“He’s not a trickster,” Sam reminded him. “He’s an archangel.”

“That makes it better?”

“Gabriel would be a powerful ally to have,” said Castiel. “And we need all the help we can get.”

“Yeah, thanks. My legs remembered,” snapped Bobby.

“Well, um, maybe Gabe will be able to do something about that,” suggested Sam.

Squinting at him, Jo said, “Did you just call the archangel Gabriel, _Gabe_?”

Dean, who had been busy trying to untie his boots, suddenly looked at Sam with a lifted eyebrow.

“I—so? Whatever, just—what I’m trying to say here is that he could help us.”

“If he accepts, you mean,” said Jo.

And the trio nodded, slightly depressed at their poor progress so far.

“All right,” said Bobby. “I’m not entirely sure how _we_ are supposed to fit into all this, but since we’re here, boys, what can we do to help?”

Although Sam and Dean doubted that Bobby—or anyone else for that matter, themselves included—could change much about the situation, it was nevertheless reassuring to know that Bobby and their friends would always have their backs.

As they began adding on details to what Becky had already told them about their predicament, it also granted Sam, Dean and Castiel a chance to recap Gabriel’s arguments.

While his reasons to not support their quest, the biggest one being the _destiny_ argument, had not changed, they had to admit that there had been some surprising information about him that was worth reflecting on.

The first one being his connection to Chuck, and the second being his motivation behind this bizarre arrangement.

“I don’t know about Chuck,” said Dean, “but as for this,” he added, gesturing to his clothes, “I’m sure he’s just screwing with us. Like he always does.”

But Castiel and Sam weren’t convinced that that was the case.

“Look, I’m not going to deny that all the theatrics are—”

“Annoying?”

“—unnecessary,” continued Sam. “But I actually think there is a reason why he is doing all of this.”

“To piss us off, Sam. That’s why he’s doing it. And he’s going to continue doing it until we give up.”

“Based on your peachiness right now, it seems to be working,” said Bobby, amused.

But once again, Sam didn’t agree.

“Is he trying to mess with us? Yes, of course. But I don’t think—”

Unfortunately, Sam was then interrupted when an announcement was made to remind everyone that certain activities were to begin soon.

Glancing over the crowd to spot the others, they found Becky conversing with Ellen and Rufus next to the bar, Ed and Harry were trying to get the attention of someone dressed as Bloody Mary, and much to Sam and Dean’s dismay, Gabriel appeared to be in deep discussion with the event manager, as they were examining his clipboard, no doubt scanning through the convention’s schedule.

Chuck was nowhere to be seen.

As they waved at Gabriel to let him know they would soon join him like they had promised, Dean said, “I don’t know why he’s doing this, but I’d be eternally grateful if you just help us not lose our damn minds this afternoon.”

For the following hour, Dean, to the best of his abilities, tried to keep his participation to the bare minimum. Especially where the panels were concerned. He was ready to discuss theories—or at the very least listen to them—with the fans, listen to so-called experts of the supernatural, play trivia and even participate in photo ops.

But sitting through panels dissecting his personal life was where he drew the line. Fortunately, he managed to escape the first panel, namely “The Secret Life of Dean,” by choosing to listen to the “experts” of the supernatural instead, which occurred at the same time. Even if it would be a waste of time, and he was convinced that it would be, at the very least, he judged that it would spare him some embarrassment.

He was also incredibly grateful that while Sam and their friends had made a point of teasing him on many aspects of this event (and the panels in question), they respected his privacy enough by promising to not attend the dreaded panel.

All but Castiel.

Before Dean had known it, the panel had begun, and just like they had found him in the main room at their arrival, Castiel was sitting comfortably in the Magnolia room, already invested into the presentation.

Dean hopelessly stared at Sam, as though it was his fault, but Sam, holding down a grin, shrugged and said, “I think you should take it as a compliment, Dean.”

Which he did not.

As they took their seats into the other panel, Sam and Dean quickly noted that Gabriel was not in the room.

“This is what I was worried about,” Dean whispered to Sam, as he watched Ellen, Rufus and Bobby settle themselves at the other end of the row. “How are we supposed to get our point across if we can’t talk to Gabriel or even see him?”

“One thing at a time. It’s only the afternoon. We still have the rest of the day to do this.”

Dean knew that Sam was right, but it didn’t mean he had to like it, either. He decided to use this opportunity to tune out and cogitate on what he could say to Gabriel later on.

To his surprise, however, his attention was easily distracted by the staggering amount of false information being transmitted during this never-ending presentation.

These alleged experts made the Ghostfacers seem like decent hunters in comparison, and by the end of the lecture, Dean honestly didn’t know if he should laugh or simply be horrified.

One look at Sam told him that he wasn’t the only one feeling this way. His brother was simply staring at the stage in utter disbelief. Bobby and Ellen seemed more annoyed than anything else, while Rufus was just plainly giggling as quietly as he could, sipping on his flask.

Too stunned to applaud when the long hour was finally over, the group dragged themselves out of that room and silently agreed to never speak of this again.

“I don’t know about you, but that was so much worse than I thought. I don’t know how much of this I can take—and I hate these stupid boots,” whined Dean as they fled that room as though it was a crime scene. “We need to find Cas and Gabriel and end this soon.”

They peeked into the Magnolia room, where they had last seen Castiel, but were disappointed to find that he was no longer there.

The panel had ended and the room was now slowly filling up for the next one, which consisted of a discussion about “The Homoerotic Subtext of _Supernatural_.”

The boys scanned the room quickly, and once they were satisfied that Castiel was truly not present—nor was Gabriel—they happily turned their backs to the panel and walked away.

They didn’t have better luck in the lobby, however. Through the crowd, which seemed to have grown twice in size since their arrival, neither Sam nor Dean could spot either angels.

Which was rather surprising considering how much Castiel stood out from everyone else.

“I say we split up. You do a scan of the hotel for Cas and Gabriel, and I’ll go to the—there—that trivia thingy,” said Dean, pointing at the schedule after taking a look at his watch. He slowly began heading to the room in question, which was only a few steps away from them.

And Sam didn’t think that was a coincidence.

They peeked into the room, and just like the lobby and the Magnolia room, no Castiel or Gabriel were to be found.

“Why do I get to do the leg work and you just get to sit down?” asked Sam.

“Trust me, it’s not because I actually want to.”

Sam frowned at him.

“You really gonna make me say it?”

Silence.

“My feet, Sam. My feet are killing me.”

Sam opened his mouth to say something, but he judged that telling Dean a snarky remark would probably be in poor taste in that moment, so he simply nodded at him.

“So, in case Gabriel is watching us, I’ll be in there _participating_ ,” he said, taking in a deep breath, “and maybe you’ll be able to corner him. Might as well be you, anyway.”

“Me? Why me?”

“Um, it’s pretty obvious why it should be you,” said Dean, wiggling his eyebrows.

Sam made a face.

“Come on,” said Dean. “I saw the little glimpses you shot him during lunch. And vice versa.”

“Is that so?” said Sam. “And here I was thinking that you were way too occupied at _not_ looking at Cas and his naked body during lunch to notice.”

“What does that mean?”

And Sam guffawed at him, which only pressed Dean to give his brother an annoyed face for what seemed like the umpteenth time that day, before awkwardly stepping into the room, dreading the experience.

When Sam recovered from his fit of laughter, he left Dean to his trivia and began exploring the rest of the hotel like Dean had suggested. In doing so, however, he unfortunately missed Castiel by a second as the angel returned to the lobby from the opposite end, after having done just what Sam was about to undertake.

While Castiel had not succeeded in locating Gabriel when he had been scouting the rest of the hotel, he did manage to spot him in the waiting room area not far from the main entrance.

A spot which had been hidden from Sam and Dean’s vantage point.

The archangel was watching with delight a mini photo op between fans. Most of them were dressed as Sam and Dean, of course, but he appreciated the ones who had dressed as the monsters or spirits.

Castiel, seizing this opportunity, approached him and observed the scene quietly by his side for a minute.

“Enjoying your day, brother?” Gabriel finally said, once the group was now taking a picture consisting solely of Sams, while the Deans patiently waited.

“Gabriel, why aren’t you helping us?”

“Subtly has never been your thing, huh?”

“Answer my question.”

“I don’t know what’s so difficult to get when I say that I don’t want anything to do with this. Cas,” he said, sighing as he turned towards him, “why are you nagging me about this? You do realize that I’m actually going easy on you three? Knowing what I know, I should just deliver Sam and Dean to our brothers and that would be the end of everyone’s nightmare.”

“Don’t pretend that the reason why you aren’t acting on it is because you are doing us a favor,” said Castiel calmly. “We know you are avoiding them as much as we are. Which is precisely why _you should help us_.”

Despite the dramatic delivery attached to Castiel’s last comment, something that Gabriel desperately wanted to mock him for, he knew Castiel had a fair point, much to his annoyance.

That being said, Gabriel also knew that in the big scheme of things, his involvement wouldn’t change the outcome much, a fact that he quickly reminded Castiel of.

“You want to act like you have control over things way larger than us both? Fine! You can’t, but go nuts and see what happens,” he told him. “You can hate me, even blame me or whatever for not trying, but at least, I seem to be the only one who has a grasp on reality about this.”

“But—”

“No,” he hissed at him. “No ‘buts,’ Cas. I get that Sam and Dean would be stubborn about this, but you? You _know_ this.” He tapped him on his chest. “This is more than just them being at the eleventh hour of some disaster and pulling a half-decent plan out of their asses. This is _destiny_. Dad’s story. The best you can do is delay the inevitable. Not stop it, only stall it. And I don’t want to know at what cost.”

Shaking his head, Castiel took a few steps away from Gabriel as though he was ready to give up. But he came to a sudden halt and remained still with his back turned to him.

He then faced him slowly, and after looking sadly at the group who were laughing as they took ridiculous poses, he began speaking softly.

“My interactions with Dean and Sam changed my perspective on things. On the world. On humanity. It enhanced it and it didn’t take much to do so. Barely a year has passed since I first met them. And even if I already had doubts far before I had met either of them, the more time I spent here on earth, the more time I spent with them…the clearer certain things became. Staying silent and obeying blindly were no longer an option, especially considering what is at stake. They made that possible.”

“Because you caught a case of _feelings_.”

Frowning, Castiel said, “If you mean that I became attached to Sam and Dean—”

“One in particular, I think…” muttered Gabriel under his breath.

“—then, yes, I care for them,” continued Castiel, paying no attention to Gabriel’s comment. “And that’s my point, Gabriel. If I managed to develop attachment to this place and its people when I wasn’t here for that long, surely, you, who have been here for centuries, must have managed to do the same along the way.”

Gabriel pursed his lips.

“If not for us or for our cause, joining us against Lucifer could be for them—whoever they are—and this place.”

After reflecting on Castiel’s words, Gabriel said, “Even if there were some people I wouldn’t be opposed to protecting—hypothetically speaking, of course—we still can’t stop Lucifer and Michael’s pissing contest. I don’t want the Apocalypse to happen, but the boys started it. And if they had a chance to stop it before, they don’t anymore. This is happening, whether we like it or not.”

“Then help me find the one who can stop it. You don’t have to intervene directly with Lucifer or Michael if you don’t want to, but help me find God.”

Unable to contain his laughter, Gabriel tittered at him. Feeling exasperated, he took hold of Castiel’s shoulders and looked him straight in the eye. “Cas, trust me when I say this: that quest of yours is even more pointless. If Father wanted to do something about it, or be a part of this, or _reveal_ himself, _he would_.”

Castiel frowned. “Wait—so you believe that Father is alive.”

“Oh, I believe He with the capital ‘h’ is still kicking. I never said he was dead, I said he was ‘gone.’ Difference. And we’d know if that was the case. He’s not dead. He just doesn’t care enough to do something about this.”

“But I’m here. I’m alive because he brought me back. This must prove that he’s not indifferent or hopeless.”

“Cas, I don’t know how to say this without sounding like a dick, but you being here or not, it doesn’t change anything. Just like me helping you out or not.” 

“You don’t mean that.”

“I’m dead serious on that one.” And then, assessing the desolate expression on Castiel’s face, he felt compelled to add, “Sorry, Cas. But my answer is still no. The one helpful thing I can tell you is that Father is not the answer to your problem. I don’t think there is any answer, but I can guarantee you that _He_ isn’t.”

He turned to the group, which now consisted of Deans, and said to Castiel in a joyful tone, “Now, fancy a photo shoot? Let’s make it interesting for those peeps.”

While Gabriel was enthusiastic about this idea, it was clear that Castiel, on the other hand, didn’t share his excitement.

“What’s the problem?”

Castiel leaned towards Gabriel and whispered, “I don’t think that would please them. Many people have commented about my clothes already. They keep referring to me as a certain ‘Constantine,’ and for some reason, it seems to vex many of them.”

“I’m sure it will be fine.” Gabriel nodded at Castiel to follow him, and then, after pondering on the matter for a second, he added, “If they are dweebs about it though, I know just what to do.”

Sam grew mildly frustrated as he scoured the grounds of the hotel without succeeding to locating Gabriel or Castiel. He politely nodded to the fans who were resting in the quaint library, as well as those he met on his path. Some simply nodded in acknowledgment, and some were even chatty. Sam wasn’t exactly in a talkative mood, but every time it happened, he made sure to inquire if anyone had seen Castiel or Gabriel, using the qualifiers of “Constantine” and “trickster.”

Everyone knew whom he was speaking of, but not a single person could confirm their location within the last half hour.

As he was going down the hallway leading to the dining area, thus soon completing his tour of the hotel, he ran into Becky, who was, to say the least, thrilled to have found him.

The next thing Sam knew, he ended up being roped into a discussion about theories regarding the upcoming adventures of Sam and Dean with other fans.

Which was a very strange thing to take part in.

Back in the lobby, Gabriel had had his fun during the fan photo shoot by altering the cosplays of grumpy Deans who had complained about Castiel’s _non-Supernatural_ cosplay, which was in fact ironic. Thus, following these comments, many of them were then quite inexplicably wearing a trench coat and tie instead of their flannel and leather jacket.

After a few pictures with a few confused fans, Castiel left Gabriel’s company and headed towards the parking lot when he overheard a group mentioning a “collection of Impalas.”

Having no clue of Sam and Dean’s location, he judged that this was a good place to start, in particular where Dean was concerned.

Now on his own, Gabriel began browsing the merchandise displayed on the tables.

More specifically, the one with the _Supernatural_ book series.

He had known about the books, of course, but until that very moment, he hadn’t actually taken a proper look at them, and while it appeared that the Winchesters’ story was depicted in length, he also noticed that certain parts had been glossed over.

As he was skimming through the third chapter of _Mystery Spot_ , his focus was broken when he heard someone ask him nervously, “What are you doing?”

Lowering the book, he found himself face to face with Chuck.

“Reading. It’s riveting.”

“What are you doing _here_? Why are you meddling?”

Gabriel let out a short laugh, “I’m not meddling.”

“You are.” And as Chuck’s eyes fell on the copy of _Mystery Spot_ , he added, “And it’s not the first time. You did so just last week, and you are doing so right now.”

Sighing, Gabriel closed the book, but kept hold of it as he crossed his arms over his chest.

“And as I keep repeating to your poor puppets, what does it matter? Besides, you’re one to talk, _dear prophet_.”

“Gabriel, I’m warning you.” Chuck glanced around. “Stay out of this. And keep your mouth shut.”

“About you, you mean?” said Gabriel, feeling a smile creeping on his mouth. He held his stare for a moment, pondering on his words. There were many things he considered saying, some which he had been meaning to say for a very long time, but quite surprisingly, he decided against it. “Relax. I’m not going to out you or anything. As if you’d let me anyway.”

“That’s right. I’ve been…generous with you. I let you have a lot of slack. But this isn’t funny anymore. You weren’t even supposed to be here, so it’s time for you to leave and stop whatever game you’re playing at.”

For a micro second, Gabriel blinked. Something occurred to him. He almost asked Chuck a follow-up question about his last comment, but just in time, he stopped himself. He knew just by the simple fact that he was thinking about it meant that it was now probably too late, but he decided to ignore that fact for a moment and instead, he yielded the conversation in another direction.

“I heard dear old Raph played ‘let’s explode the angel.’ Why did you bring Cas back?”

“I—I had my reasons. Which I really don’t have to justify. Especially not to you.”

“I was just curious.”

Gabriel turned his gaze to one of the numerous pairs of Sam and Dean, who were talking with a newly-trench-coat-wearing fan. Despite their age and height discrepancy, Gabriel had to admit that there was a certain likeness to the actual trio in their facial features. Even Castiel’s.

“You are not seriously considering this are you?” asked Chuck.

“I don’t know,” he said in a joyful manner. “I got... what? Two books to my name, now?” he said, taking another look at the _Mystery Spot_ copy. “Unless some things get omitted or skipped over, I might get another one. Maybe. With Castiel turning out to be the little rebel, he’s going to gain so much screen time, I’m worried it will go to his head. If I join, it may help him stay down to earth, you know?”

“Funny.”

“I try.”

“You know it’s pointless. You said it yourself a moment ago.”

Gabriel tried very hard not to blink.

“You can’t change anything,” continued Chuck. He hadn’t said in a warning tone, but just as a matter of fact, which made it far worse.

But Gabriel kept his jolly expression despite everything.

“Oh, I know that. But then again, as those two adorable knuckleheads keep repeating to me, if it’s pointless, what do I have to lose if I tag along?”

“A great lot. I can tell you that.”

Gabriel observed Chuck for a long time. “Is that so?”

“Yes,” Chuck said calmly. “I know so. Just like how I know you aren’t saying this seriously.”

And Gabriel pursed his lips, as he lowered his eyes.

Knowing that Chuck, unfortunately, was right.

“Well, you would be the one to know.”

Sam thought of many other things that would have been far more productive (and less aggravating) than listening to people hypothesize on his own upcoming life events—which, for him, had _already_ occurred—but he contented himself with the fact that in doing so, he was keeping his end of the bargain.

He was participating.

He had to fight down the urge to bolt out of the room a couple of times though. Hearing people discussing Dean’s sojourn in hell or Jessica’s death as casually as though it was a weather report was not the most pleasant experience.

And while he appreciated in some ways the support Becky was showing him through concerned smiles, just like Chuck’s Q and A, it was still very discomforting to listen to complete strangers have strong opinions about his personal issues.

Thank goodness, none of them knew about the demon blood.

Keeping an eye on the door, after an hour had passed, Sam was in dire need to stretch his legs and felt it was time to attempt to find the others as well.

Since Becky was in the middle of a discussion about the relevance of the “samulet” with someone cosplaying as Ash, Sam thought it was the opportune moment to quietly slip out of the room undetected.

And it worked.

The moment he arrived in the lobby, he was shocked at how many people appeared to be wearing trench coats. Having no doubt that Gabriel was behind this, he scanned the place quickly, which wasn’t very difficult to do, given his height.

Unfortunately, only Rufus and Jo, sitting at the bar, with the Ghostfacers not far from them, were to be seen.

No Dean.

No Castiel.

And no Gabriel.

He exchanged a few words with his friends, and once neither of them could tell him where the others were, Sam thanked them for their help, and set out to another round of the hotel.

As he ambled down the empty hallways, he tried to reach Dean on his phone, but got no answer. He continued on his way, until he found Ellen and Bobby, quietly resting in a sitting room. After they told him the same answer Rufus and Jo had, he tried his phone one more time, and once he reached Dean’s voicemail, he felt suddenly tired and let himself drop on the armchair next to Ellen, reasoning that he deserved a short break.

As for Dean, though he would never admit it, he had enjoyed playing trivia. At first, he thought it would have been silly considering the obvious advantage he had over other people. It soon came to his attention, however, that underestimating Chuck’s readers had been a big mistake.

Which wasn’t too surprising when he thought of Becky, the books he had sampled, and, of course, his entire day so far.

And yet, he couldn’t help but be astonished at the amount of knowledge people knew about him and Sam.

The monsters of the week and personal questions (however disturbing) were naturally the easiest ones to answer.

Details about a case? How to kill a shtriga? Which play Sam had done in high school?

Piece of cake.

But when it came to knowing what color shirt Susan Thompson, the Pierpont Inn owner, had been wearing on the second day of their stay, Dean had to admit defeat. He was also speechless about how some people were answering these challenging questions with such ease, that it made him wonder how many times they had read the books.

And he certainly wondered _why_ they would read about them, or even idolize them. That sounded absolutely insane to him, and no one would change his mind about it.

Be that as it may, Dean was enjoying himself, and before he knew it, the rest of the afternoon had flown by and it was now early evening. It had taken his stomach growling loudly for him to assess the time, and not believing his watch, he thanked everyone for the afternoon and promptly headed towards the door.

He hadn’t taken two steps, however, before he came to a halt when he saw Castiel patiently leaning by the doorway. Stunned, Dean approached him slowly.

He didn’t appear upset or in a hurry. In fact, if Dean didn’t know any better, Castiel almost looked serene.

Then again, this was Castiel, and harboring a deadpan expression was rather typical of him.

“Cas, I was—did you just get here?”

He shook his head.

“How long have you been here?”

“For about an hour.”

“What?” spat Dean so loudly that the room turned silent. He waved at them apologetically and exited the room with Castiel. “What do you mean you’ve been there for an hour? Why didn’t you say anything?”

“You seemed to be enjoying yourself for the first time today, so I didn’t want to disturb you.”

“Disturb—Cas!” he said, half-laughing, half-annoyed. “We’re not here to enjoy ourselves. We’re here to convince Gabriel to join the team.”

“I am aware of this, Dean, but who’s to say we can’t do both? In any case, we should enjoy ourselves while we can, seeing as how our plan is going.”

Though Castiel’s expression had remained the same, Dean had definitely detected a clear change in his tone.

“What happened?”

“I—I spoke to Gabriel. Alone.”

Feeling silly to have wasted his entire afternoon on trivia, Dean was glad to know that at least one of them had been focused on their goal.

“And? What did he say?”

There was a short pause, as though Castiel was worried about saying the words out loud, until he said, “I’m sorry, Dean. I failed in our task.”

“Damn it.”

“I’m sorry,” he repeated.

“Cas, no, don’t worry. You tried. That’s what’s important, right?” Dean rested his hand on his shoulder, wanting to express a genuine form of comfort to his friend.

But when their eyes met, the look shared expressed more than comfort and Dean became suddenly aware of what he was doing.

Panic rose in his chest, and he withdrew his hand, wanting to act like nothing odd had occurred. And while Castiel hadn’t commented on it, Dean had a feeling that, sooner or later, that day would come.

After clearing his throat, he then added, “I—I didn’t even get the chance to speak with Gabriel yet.”

“You still have the rest of the evening to do so, and hopefully, you and Sam will have better luck than me.”

At the mention of Sam, Dean instantly glanced around them. Given his brother’s height, it would be particularly easy to spot him in this crowd. But Sam wasn’t there. He then retrieved his phone from his pocket and swore under his breath when he noticed the battery of his phone had died.

“Okay,” he said, sighing, “let’s find Sam, and we’ll see where to go from there.”

Despite the state of his phone, and the fact that the trio had had difficulty keeping track of each other all afternoon, locating Sam was relatively quick. Jo and Rufus, who were still at the bar, this time laughing with the Ghostfacers, something that Dean found incredibly odd, pointed them in the right direction, and after a few turns down the main hallway, they found Sam in the sitting room with Bobby and Ellen.

He jumped to his feet the moment he noticed their presence.

“Where have you been?”

“Participating,” said Dean. “Where have _you_ been?”

“Boys, play nice,” warned Ellen.

“I checked everywhere for the both of you and couldn’t find you anywhere. So, when you didn’t answer my calls, I just stayed here, hoping one of you would show up. Where’s Gabriel?”

“No idea. I haven’t seen him since lunch—no, wait—he was talking to the event manager.”

“Same thing here,” said Sam, and Bobby and Ellen nodded in agreement.

“Cas did though. When was that?”

“Hours ago. Right after the first panel, which was very informative, Dean. I’m very glad I went.”

“That—that’s awesome, Cas.”

Amused at Dean’s uneasiness, Sam kept his comment to himself, and instead asked, “And where was Gabriel? Did you talk to him?”

Castiel briefly recounted his encounter with the archangel to Sam, specifying this time around that they had been in the lobby near the main entrance.

“How did I miss you? I checked everywhere,” groaned Sam. “What about after that? Where did you go? Where did he go?”

“I went outside on my own. I don’t know where Gabriel went afterwards.”

“Why did you go outside?” asked Bobby

“I was attending to the event about the '67 Chevy Impala collection.”

Dean nearly lost the function of his legs. “The what?” he blurted out.

“That’s a thing?”

Castiel nodded vehemently. “There must have been nearly a dozen of them. They were all on display and their owners discussed how they acquired the cars and exchanged tips on how to maintain them.”

Dean remembered the numerous Impalas in the parking lot at the arrival. How he had managed to forget about that detail until now was a complete mystery to him.

“And you—you went to this?”

Castiel frowned at Dean’s question. “I thought you’d be there. I think you would have really liked it.”

“I think so, too, Cas,” said Sam, smirking at Dean.

Annoyed with his brother and with the fact that he had missed such an event, Dean crossed his arms over his chest and made a moue. “What are we going to do about Gabriel?” he said, wanting to change the subject.

“Actually, I thought of something,” said Bobby.

“You did? What is it?” pressed on Sam.

“Well, I’m not sure how useful it could be—”

“But?”

“— _but_ ,” he added, after taking a deep breath, “earlier, Sam and I were discussing our first encounter with the trick—Gabriel. It was pretty much what I remembered and I didn’t think much of it. But then Sam told me of the other two times and I noticed something. Well, I think I did…”

“Jesus, Bobby, what is it?” asked Ellen, on the edge of her seat.

“Despite his weird—and at times, lethal—sense of humor, I don’t think he ever meant you any harm. Real harm, anyway.”

“Hi, my name is Dean, and I’ve been killed off like a hundred times,” he said, lifting his hand.

“But he brought you back. And that,” said Bobby dramatically, “I think is a massive indicator of who he really is.”

Sam, Dean and Castiel exchanged a look.

“Without meaning to, I think he has revealed a lot more about himself than he’s let on. Especially when you consider the persona he has adopted because—”

And whatever it was that Bobby was about to say, the trio wouldn’t find out right away, because before he could finish his sentence, he, as well as Ellen, suddenly vanished in front of their eyes.

“What the—hey!”

Castiel and the Winchesters turned around in panic, only to find Gabriel trotting towards them, with a smile on his face.

“Damn it. Bring him back!”

Gabriel shook his head.

Breathing deeply, Dean reached for his phone, but remembered that it was dead. “Call him,” he told Sam. Despite his phone being operational, Sam didn’t get more luck.

“There’s no signal.” 

“Same,” said Castiel, looking at his phone as well.

“You boys gotta unplug once in a while.”

“We’ll just use someone else’s. The front desk,” said Dean, but Gabriel’s smirk told him that this would not be an option either. “Let me guess, every line is dead?”

“Sort of.”

“Come on. We actually need to check if Bobby and Ellen are okay.”

“I promise that everyone in this hotel, as well as your friends who are now back from where I snatched them, are safe and sound.”

And that was when a horrid scream came from upstairs.

“You were saying?” snapped Dean.

“Oh, that’s fake. It’s the game. That’s why I came looking for you. To let you know it was about to begin.”

“What game?” asked Castiel.

“The—the larping. The Big Hunt.”

Dean let out a groan of exasperation.

“It’s totally safe. I mean, given the not-so-fake case of Leticia Gore, it could have gotten ugly for a second—”

“What do you mean?” asked Sam.

“—but no matter, I took care of it earlier. It took most of the afternoon, but now the only ghosts here are the cosplayers.”

Dean stared at him for a long time, processing what Gabriel had just said, until he finally let out, “What the hell are you talking about?”

“It doesn’t matter,” he said, waving his hand. “The important thing is that the game has started and we really ought to catch up.”

And he snapped his fingers once more and all four of them were teleported to the lobby. A large group was gathered around the event manager, while some people were hurrying down the hallways, carrying what seemed to be EMFs made out of cardboard.

“You gotta be kidding me.”

“See it this way, at least, you aren’t wearing those boots anymore.”

And effectively, to Dean’s surprise, he and Sam just then realized that they were wearing new outfits, and the key elements of their new attires were: ugly Christmas sweaters.

“Who are they supposed to be?” Castiel asked Gabriel.

“The pagan gods.”

“Ugh,” said Dean, pulling on his shirt. “The ones in Ypsilanti?”

“Yup.”

Sam made a face.

“Friends of yours?”

“Not really, no,” said Gabriel. “I like people who have style. In all sense of the word.”

“Awesome.”

For the next hour or so, prompted by Gabriel, the trio larped with the other Sams and Deans.

Saying that they felt ridiculous was quite the understatement. Perhaps it was because they had been coerced into it. Perhaps it was because they were used to real hunts. And perhaps it was the fact that they were surrounded by people pretending to be them.

“But that was the case throughout the day,” argued Castiel.

“Oh, it was a hella annoying then, too,” said Dean.

“It just feels like ten times worse right now for some reason,” said Sam, watching a pair of Sam and Dean waving plastic machetes in the air, as though they were fighting an invisible monster.

What annoyed them the most, however, was that, with these people roaming around, it was impossible for them to have a private conversation for very long. With the Winchesters’ sweaters and Castiel’s trench coat, they were now more than ever standing out and everyone seemed to be paying attention to what they were doing.

Finally, someone claimed the Sizzler gift certificate, and since most of the interest for the hunt soon died down after that, it gave them an excuse to call it quits, as well.

They weren’t granted much time to relax, however. The moment they returned to the lobby, they were reminded by the event manager that now that the hunt was over, the second part of Chuck’s Q and A would soon begin.

And sure enough, twenty minutes later, they were all seated in the same room as earlier that day, listening to Chuck answering questions about themselves.

Again.

And Dean couldn’t stand it. Which was why when he noticed Gabriel casually leave the room, he decided that it was finally his opportunity to talk to him.

“I’ll be back,” he told Castiel, who, in return, nodded at him.

As discreetly as he could, Dean exited the room.

The merchandise tables were slowly being packed up, but Gabriel was still hanging around them, talking to one of the sellers. He was holding what seemed like a keychain.

“Splurging?” Dean asked him once he was next to him.

“Thinking about it,” he said joyfully. He put down the item and turned to Dean, as he crossed his arms over his chest.

“All right. Lay it on me, Dean.”

“What?”

“Your pitch to join the team. It’s why you’re here, no?”

Silence.

“Dean?”

More silence.

And they stared at each other.

“Is this like an intimidation tactic or…” began saying Gabriel.

“It’s not anything. Mainly because you ain’t going to have a _speech_ from me,” said Dean. He reached for a travel mug with the Impala on it.

Gabriel squinted at him. “Plot twist. Okay. I’ll bite. Then, what?”

“Nothing.” And seeing Gabriel’s skeptical expression, he added, “I’m really not trying to do anything. I’m not reverse psychology-ing you.”

“Call me crazy, but that’s exactly what someone who was using reverse psychology would say.”

Letting out a short laugh, Dean put down the travel mug, and turned himself to properly face Gabriel.

“Look, I—just between you and me, I know we will probably fail. This is…too big. Last year was insane and we all know what happened. Even if we find the Colt, even if you or someone else that’s got the juice help us, we still have to go against heaven and hell. So, yeah, it feels impossible. Probably because it is.”

“But you haven’t said yes to Michael. If you feel so defeated, why resist?”

“Because it doesn’t feel right. What Zachariah tried to sell me, the “paradise on earth,” I don’t buy it. I’m aware that nothing is perfectly wrapped up in a bow, but considering the amount of death, destruction and manipulation it took them to just put this into play, and it barely made them raise an eyebrow—like it was nothing—doesn’t inspire me to believe them with their pretty picture of 'paradise.' It’s a massacre of people who have nothing to do with this. And that I can’t ignore. So, I’ll try. Because even if it _feels_ impossible, like we’re on a freaking fool’s errand, it doesn’t _mean_ that we are. If we don’t succeed, it’s not because of ‘destiny.’ It’s because we didn’t try. And nobody can control everything.”

For a brief moment, though he wouldn’t know it, Dean had almost succeeded. Up until he mentioned ‘destiny,’ he had almost convinced Gabriel.

“That was you not giving me a speech?”

“I tried.”

With a quiet demeanor, Gabriel smiled at Dean. He paused a moment, weighing carefully on his words, and said, “I hope that you are right about what you said, but that will be for you to find out. Without me.”

Sipping on a drink, Dean had sat quietly in one of the armchairs near the main entrance as he reflected on his conversation with Gabriel, until Sam and Castiel joined him after Chuck’s panel.

“So?” asked Sam. “Cas said you left to talk to Gabriel. How did it go?”

“Not great. I blew it. And it’s the end of the evening. We’re screwed.”

“Perhaps there will be another way,” said Castiel.

“Like what? Ask Becky? Or ask the fans how to _gank_ the devil? It sucks that they aren’t caught up to the freaking story, yet,” said Dean. He gulped down the rest of his drink. “Sammy, I hate to say it, but I don’t think we’ll win this one. It was a good idea, I mean, he certainly could help. And it really pisses me off. But we can’t force him.”

“Dean, get up,” said Sam firmly.

“Wh—what?”

“I said get up. It’s not over.”

Frowning, Dean looked at the empty tables and the fans leaving and heading towards their rooms down the hallway. “The night’s over and we lost.”

“No.”

“Why?”

“Because I didn’t get to talk to him yet.”


	4. Chapter Four: A Bubbly Evening

“Hey, boys,” said Gabriel, without turning around. “Enjoying yourselves?” He was resting at the bar, waiting for his drink.

“Loads.”

“Terrific, that—”

“We need to talk,” said Sam urgently.

Gabriel, squinted at him. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but that’s what we are doing right now.”

“No, not—privately.”

Gabriel let out a deep groan. “But the night is almost over.”

“Exactly. A deal is a deal,” said Sam, “and we’re running out of time. So, I’d like to speak to you before it ends.”

“You know what your problem is?” said Gabriel, after the bartender had given him his tall glass.

“I could name one right now.”

Sam poked Dean in his ribs to cut it out.

“It’s that you guys never take a breather. I mean, that was the point of today. You were supposed to enjoy the convention.”

Dean let out a snort. “For your entertainment, though. Right?”

Gabriel’s eyes moved to the side, as he reflected on his claim. “Well, okay, maybe a bit, at first. As a joke. But I honestly thought you’d chill eventually. See, I think that distracting oneself, instead of over-obsessing over the problem, is often the best way to find its solution. So,” he said cheerfully, “what do you say?”

With a finger snap, the room transformed itself into what appeared to be a rock concert.

A stage was set up at the far left of the room. The lights were dimmed and laser lights were shining all over, but the structure, walls and furniture of the hotel were still very much in place and discernible.

“This is a very peculiar fabric,” said Castiel.

He was wearing a neon blue string tank with skinny jeans and a burgundy puffy fake fur coat, which he was rubbing his hand over.

As for the brothers, Sam was wearing a denim jacket with printed roses on it, over a shiny gold shirt, and dark green plaid pants; and for Dean, red leather pants, a charcoal t-shirt with washed out, printed feathers on it, and a dark purple velvet jacket with pink leopard spots.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” said Dean in outrage at his attire.

And he had to double back when he saw what Castiel was wearing.

“What? I thought you were tired of the ugly Christmas sweater?”

“Yes! Because I want to be back in my regular clothes! Not this extravagant crap!”

Gabriel burst into laughter. “You think this is extravagant. Dean, trust me, I’m going easy on you. Remember your earlier outfits? Or should I say, lack thereof?”

Dean made a face, as Castiel was petting Dean’s arm, saying something like, “This is incredibly soft,” though it was impossible to know for sure, as the music then began blasting. Cheers added on, and it took the boys a moment to notice that it was Chuck who was singing on stage.

And then, someone near them screamed so loudly, all four of them jumped, only to realize it was Becky, who was making her way towards the stage like a woman on a mission, as she called out Chuck’s name.

Everybody had now ditched the cosplays and were dressed in a similar fashion as the trio.

“Wait, I don’t—what is this? What book is this from?” Sam asked Gabriel, as he leaned to his ear.

“None. I’m going off-script. I’m trying to make it fun for you guys.” And then, moving his head, he said, “Or fun for everyone.”

While Dean couldn’t deny that it was a good effort, and that Chuck was actually a pretty good singer, he wanted to put an end to Gabriel’s shenanigans.

“Put us back! And get rid of the concert! We need to talk.”

Smiling at the corner of his mouth, Gabriel snapped his fingers. The stage and the laser jet disappeared and was replaced by a crowd dressed elegantly in haute couture gowns and suits, waltzing around the room like in a ballroom dancing competition.

A mild melody was playing, and Chuck, Becky and the event manager were all sitting at a long table, observing the couples dancing.

“More pleasant to your ears, Dean?”

“That’s not what I meant. Come on. Stop screwing with people. I’m legit about to have a nervous breakdown.”

“So, more casual is what you mean, huh? I see.”

With another finger snap, the room changed again.

They found themselves in the middle of a beach party. Sand now covered the carpeted floor of the hotel. There was a massive bonfire where the merchandise tables had been set up.

Some people on the other end of the room were playing volleyball. Some were lying on lounge chairs, looking at the fire. Many were dancing, and others were laughing and drinking, while sinking their toes into the sand.

And everyone was wearing sandals, shorts, and Hawaiian shirts.

Everyone but Sam, Dean and Castiel who were still wearing their absurd accoutrements, only this time, they were also holding a coconut with a straw and tiny pink umbrella.

And the leather was seriously starting to make Dean feel uncomfortable in certain places.

After Dean let out an impressive amount of profanity, Sam stepped closer to Gabriel. “Can we talk? Really. In private.” Gabriel’s gaze turned to Dean who was fuming next to them, but Sam added, “Just us. Cas and Dean got to have their private conversation with you, now it’s my turn.”

A mischievous smile appeared on Gabriel’s face. “Fine.”

And the next thing Sam knew, he was sitting in a hot tub with Gabriel.

“That better?”

“Jeez. What—”

Now wearing swim trunks, Sam lowered himself deeper into the water. Glancing nervously around him, he assessed that they were right outside the hotel, next to the large windows of the dining area. And based on the music and cheers they could hear, everything inside seemed to have remained the same.

“Um, this place has a hot tub?”

“Nope. I just decided to add a couple of them.”

“A couple?”

“ _Oh my God!_ ”

Recognizing Dean’s voice, Sam looked to his left. Far from them was another hot tub, away from the hotel and closer to the trees. Because of their poorly lit surroundings, it was difficult to discern, but it appeared that two men were occupying the other tub.

“Is that Dean and Cas over there?”

“Yup. I felt like they needed a proper break, too. And you know…help.”

Sam was about to ask him, “In what way?” but then he heard Dean yell at Castiel.

“Cas, no! _Sit. Down_ ,” Dean said, pulling on his arm.

“Your brother really has a problem with nudity, doesn’t he?”

Momentarily fearing that he had imagined his own swimwear, Sam lowered his eyes to check, and was relieved to see that he wasn’t, in fact, naked.

Just half-naked.

“I—I don’t understand. We have swim suits on.”

“We do. They don’t.”

Sam’s eyes widened.

“Sammy! SAM! Tell him to stop his nonsense!”

One look at Gabriel, who was comfortably resting against the edge, sipping on his coconut, pretty much told Sam that he was in no hurry to do such a thing.

“Sam? HEY! GABRIEL! Put us back like before, you son of a bitch!”

Gabriel made a hand motion towards Dean and everything went quiet, except for the sound of the tub’s motor. Dean and Castiel had remained exactly where they were, and while he couldn’t hear them anymore, Sam could tell Dean was still screaming at them.

“Don’t worry, he’s fine,” said Gabriel, noticing Sam’s concern. “They can still talk and be heard by everyone else around here—if someone happened to wander around, that is—and they are free to leave the tub whenever they want. They just…have to step out of it.” His coconut still in hand, he sank himself in the warm bubbly water. “Your turn, Sam. What is it you wanted to tell me?”

Taking a moment to compose his thoughts, Sam repositioned himself before beginning.

“Do you know why I want to do this? Why I want to stop the Apocalypse?”

“Because you don’t have a choice?” suggested Gabriel. “Because you’re Sam freaking Winchester, it’s the ‘right’ thing to do and all that hero complex thing?”

Sam, biting on his bottom lip, shook his head.

Which surprised Gabriel.

“I’d be lying if I didn’t say that everything you just mentioned wasn’t part of it. It is. But for me, it’s more than just about doing the right thing.” He paused for a second and ran his hand in his hair. “I—I’ve done a lot of bad things, lately. Like, really awful things. I’m pretty sure Dean will never fully forgive me and I can’t really blame him, because I’m not sure I can do that myself. What I did was—” he stopped, swallowing hard.

Gabriel remained silent, making it clear to Sam that he had his full attention.

“I’m the reason why Lucifer is free.”

“That’s not what you were trying to accomplish, though,” said Gabriel.

“But I still did it. Even if it was by accident and the opposite of what I wanted to do, I’m responsible. And not only that, it’s—the lengths I’ve gone to—” He let out a deep sigh, lowering his eyes. “I have a lot to answer for. A lot. And I have to start somewhere. I’m not saying that if we somehow manage to do this, it will automatically balance things out for me. It will take a lot more than that. But it’s a start. And no cutting corners this time, and with you, you could make this happen.”

Moving his hands under water, as he seemed in deep thought, Gabriel then said, “There’s something I don’t understand.”

“What’s that?”

“Why do you want me on your team, Sam? You, specifically. I understand why Castiel would try to convince me. I even get why Dean would, too. But you? You’re about the last person I ever expected to give me the recruitment speech, and from what I’ve gathered tonight, it was your idea in the first place. Not Dean’s or Castiel’s. Yours. Even last week. And that was before you knew how connected to all this I was. Why?”

“Because we failed every time that we tried to kill you. You’re one of the most powerful beings we’ve ever met.”

“Now, you’re just sweet-talking me.”

“And,” continued Sam, trying to ignore him, “I—there’s no way you have anything better to do than to help us take down a couple of—of really mean, um, archangels.”

“Uh-huh.” Smirking at him, Gabriel replied, “I feel like you can do better than that.”

“Okay, then. How about that: you owe us. You owe _me_.”

Sam had tried to keep a straight face as he stared at Gabriel, but he could feel his smile slowly creeping back on his lips.

“That is one bold claim, Winchester.”

“I’m forever sick of Tuesdays.”

“Believe it or not, so am I.”

“Being trapped in TV land wasn’t great.”

“It was great and you trapped me in a circle of holy fire. Which one do you think is worse?”

“I got hit in the jewels during that Japanese game show. That’s worse.”

Gabriel opened his mouth, as though he was about to throw in another argument, but then shut his mouth, and with great effort, tried not to laugh.

“Okay, you kinda got me there. And I can’t believe you actually said ‘I got hit in the _jewels_.’”

They shared a look and both burst into laughter.

“But to go back to the topic at hand,” Gabriel then added dramatically, after recovering from his fit of laughter, “you may claim that I owe you, but as I recall, when we first met, I did try to play nice with you guys. I was ready to call it a truce with you boys and walk away. I even had offerings for the occasion. You were the ones who passed on it and went after me.”

“Um, I think we had decent reasons to do so, considering you drove us against each other and then we had to fight off a maniac with a chainsaw.”

“The chainsaw was _after_ you refused to leave me be,” said Gabriel. “And come on, I wasn’t really going to mess you up that badly. Like I said last week, I knew who you were. I knew you weren’t to be too damaged.”

“And we were supposed to know that how?”

They remained silent for a few minutes, as they both took the time to rethink their strategy.

When Sam’s eyes met Gabriel’s, he said, “Why didn’t you warn us? If you knew back when we met, I mean. Why didn’t you tell us what was going to happen?”

“Oh no, no, you misunderstand,” urged Gabriel. “Is the Apocalypse supposed to happen with you two boys in the middle of it all? Yes. That, I knew. But how and when? In which context? If at all? Too many contingencies to know for sure.”

“Wait—so, you admit that nothing is set in stone,” said Sam, finally hearing something encouraging. “That it is possible.”

“That’s not what I said,” he spoke gently. “Certain details may change, but the main event, namely the Apocalypse, that stays. Maybe in some extreme circumstances it could have been avoided, but we are well past that now. The only thing left for me is to watch my siblings tear each other apart while knowing my father doesn’t care.”

Sam’s eyes softened on the spot. “And I get that, no matter how global the consequences might be, no one would want to do this.”

“Exa—exactly! Thank you. Thank you for understanding.” Gabriel took a good look at him and then added, “You’re an okay guy, Sam, you know that?”

Diverting his eyes for a moment, Sam said, “Am I?”

“Yup.”

Feeling slightly embarrassed and overly aware of their states, Sam simply nodded to the compliment, and turned his gaze to the bubbly water.

“Sam? That’s the part where you should ask me what else I like about you.”

“You didn’t say you liked me. You said I was an okay guy.”

“I like you.”

And now Sam was definitely feeling the blood rush to his cheeks.

After what seemed like an excruciatingly slow minute, during which Gabriel slid himself closer to Sam, he told him, “So, um, quick question...”

Feeling his heartbeat increased, Sam said, “What?”

“I was wondering…how long has this thing between Cas and Dean been going on?”

Shutting his eyes, Sam let out a laugh. “That’s what you want to ask me?”

“For now, yes. I feel like they need a bit of direction.”

Beaming, Sam reached for his drink and said, “I’m listening.”

Out of earshot, Dean was becoming more restless by the second in the other hot tub.

He had remained exactly in the same spot. He hadn’t moved an inch, even when Castiel had slid next to him for a better view of Gabriel and Sam.

And once Castiel had finally settled next to him, Dean had made sure to keep his eyes on his brother and Gabriel, desperate to hear what was going on.

That was, at the very least, what Dean kept telling himself.

Nevertheless, the fact that he could not hear anything from the other tub, and therefore didn’t know what was going on, was bothering him.

Which was why he asked, without looking at him, “Cas, do you know what Sam is telling Gabriel?”

Silence.

“Cas?” 

Silence.

Dean carefully turned his eyes to his friend.

Keeping hands right at the surface of the bubbling water, Castiel seemed amused at the sensation.

“Cas?” repeated Dean more firmly.

He finally looked at him. “Sorry, what were you saying?”

“Sam and Gabriel. Can you hear what’s going on over there?”

Returning his gaze to the water, Castiel said, “No. I think Gabriel is shielding their conversation from us.”

“Like a cone of silence?”

“I don’t know what that means, but whatever he is doing, I don’t think it has to do with the distance separating us.”

Dean rolled his eyes, nodding.

Watching Castiel being intrigued by the water, he forgot himself for a moment as his eyes followed Castiel’s moving hands, and caught sight of other body parts.

Thankful for the presence of the bubbles, he cleared his throat and asked, “Are you having fun?”

“It’s simply very peculiar. Dean, what is the point of this activity?”

“Um, nothing. You just, you know, sit and relax. Like a pool. Just…”

“More pleasant?”

“Yeah.”

“But how can anyone swim in this?”

“That’s not what it’s for. Like I said, you just…sit and relax. Let the bubbles do the magic.”

Staring at him, Castiel seemed a tad confused by Dean’s last comment. “It tickles,” he finally said in an as-matter-of-fact way. “In more than one place. It’s—it’s just a strange sensation.”

Dean wasn’t sure what to say to that, but since Castiel then leaned his back against the edge of the tub, resting his hands underwater, Dean judged that he looked very calm and that perhaps the best thing to do was to say nothing.

For a little while, they remained quiet, listening to nothing but the motor of the hot tub and the water.

And Dean diverted his eyes back to Gabriel and Sam every time he noticed Castiel was staring at him.

Determined to look anywhere but at Castiel’s bare chest.

Again.

There had been plenty of that today, already.

And _more_.

Yet, his attention still turned to Castiel and his exposed skin.

Only this time, his skin was glistening wet.

And he took notice of the droplets on his pecks.

His shoulders.

His neck.

Which was worse.

Much worse.

And it didn’t help that Castiel seemed far more fascinated by the bubbles than showing discomfort about the whole situation.

Biting on his lips, Dean shifted on his seat as subtly as he could, and turned his head to observe Sam and Gabriel once more.

Whatever was going on, they seemed to be in a deep conversation and were paying no attention to Castiel and Dean, whatsoever.

“Does it look promising?”

“I can’t tell,” said Dean, finally glad of breaking the awkward silence. “Nobody seems upset, so I guess there’s that?” He took a deep breath. “I hope Sam gets through to him because I failed big time.”

“My approach was equally fruitless, Dean.”

Turning to him, he asked, “What did you tell him?”

“Since Gabriel keeps insisting that he wants to keep out of this fight, I asked him to help me find God. If anyone would be helpful in that quest, I think it would be him.”

“And he’s not in a hurry to find him, huh?”

“No. He isn’t. What about you? What did you say to him?”

“I tried the whole ‘screw destiny’ bit,” said Dean, after letting out a deep sigh. “Which is apparently pointless.”

“It’s not pointless, Dean. As I recall, it worked with me.”

Nodding his head, Dean shyly smiled at him. Tempted to say that this was different, he was suddenly worried about how it may sound, so he let himself sink deeper in the water, with the intention of not commenting.

But soon enough, as he watched Castiel wiggling his toes to the surface, Dean heard himself say, “Cas, can I ask you a question?”

“Of course.”

“What was it that made you change your mind?”

“You mean, when I helped you escape Zachariah’s grasp?”

“Yeah.”

He pondered on the matter for an instant and then said, “There was…more than one reason. But the main one, I suppose, was that you had enticed me to see the right from the wrong. I did not agree with what Zachariah and the others were planning on doing. And letting Sam kill Lilith for their own benefit was wrong. Letting the Apocalypse happen, at the price of millions of lives, was wrong.” Castiel paused a moment. He opened his mouth, as though he was about to say something, and then shut it, having a change of heart. “You knew I cared, Dean. And you reminded me of it.”

Dean nodded quietly taking in Castiel’s words. “And um, what was the other reason?”

“Reason for what?” he said, still looking at his toes, amused.

“You said there was more than one reason for helping us. What was the other one?”

Castiel lifted his eyes and met Dean’s.

“Why do you ask?”

“Just curious.” And after a few seconds of being under Castiel’s stare, he then added, letting out a fake laugh, “Forget it. It’s—it’s none of my business.”

“It’s all right. I don’t mind telling you. I’m simply surprised you ask, Dean.”

“Why?”

“Because I thought it was obvious.”

Dean swallowed hard.

“Heaven supporting the Apocalypse was—is—evidently wrong, as I said. I could see it and you were right to stand against it. But more than that, I—the defeated look on your face when you understood I wouldn’t help you…The betrayal…Disappointing you was probably the worst thing I ever had to witness so far.”

Dean felt a pang in his chest. Repositioning himself, he straightened his back, thus exposing his chest again, and turned to Castiel. “I was a bit unfair to you,” he said in a low voice. “None of this was your fault, Cas. You didn’t—Ruby—”

“No, you were right,” said Castiel, cutting him off. “The simple fact that I managed to break you out proves that it wasn’t a question of my ability, but rather of my will to stand with you. And Sam.”

Diverting his eyes to the side, Dean then said, “Still…I look back on it and what you did was a lot, Cas. I asked a lot. I—I—sometimes, I can’t even believe you did that.” And then, after taking a deep breath, he said, “Thank you. I—I feel awful that you pulled through for us and we screwed up. I didn’t stop Sam, he got manipulated, and now we’re hunted down by heaven _and_ hell.”

There was a short pause, and then Castiel said, “While it wasn’t the outcome we had hoped, it also could have been far worse.”

“Worse than Lucifer being topside?”

“Dean, had you not been there, who knows what would have happened to Sam? To you? You being in Zachariah’s grasp, maybe you would have both said yes and that wouldn’t have helped anyone.”

“Okay, but—but Cas, I still didn’t do anything except see Sam open the cage and then get zapped somewhere else.”

“But it also allowed you to demonstrate your determination, even if everyone told you it was useless,” said Castiel. “And I might be wrong, but I believe that’s what granted us a second chance.” And then, adopting a softer tone and slightly leaning in towards him, he added, “It is what convinced me, anyway. And—and it isn’t ideal, but it is comforting to know that you and Sam are tending to the matter. If anyone can do it, it’s you two.”

“With you.”

Locking eyes with each other, they held their stare for a moment until Castiel’s eyes began to wander elsewhere than on Dean’s face. And Dean didn’t mind.

At first, he thought he was examining his tattoo, but it became clear that it wasn’t what was holding Castiel’s attention.

And whatever it was, Dean could have sworn there was a smile at the corner of his mouth.

“Cas? Is—what is it?”

“Your freckles. I hadn’t noticed it this afternoon. It’s just different than how I had pictured it.”

“You, um, pictured it—me?”

Castiel lifted his eyes. “In a manner of speaking, yes.”

And after a moment of hesitation, Dean said, “Did you…is it the only thing that you pictured?”

“No.”

Holding his breath, Dean suddenly felt light-headed. His attention turned to Castiel’s hand which was now resting on Dean’s shoulder. Not unlike he had done so earlier that day, during their private conversation. In this moment, however, Dean didn’t want to let his panic get the better of him.

Slowly sliding himself closer to him, he said, “What else did you picture?”

Their knees were touching.

He reached for Castiel’s hand and gently eased it over his chest.

Momentarily forgetting where they were, he did not even notice that the motor of the hot tub was no longer working.

And that the bubbles had disappeared.

“What else, Cas?” he repeated in a whisper.

But before Castiel could answer, they both found themselves back inside the hotel, fully dressed, and standing next to Sam and Gabriel.

They were still wearing the ridiculous attire from before they had winded up in the hot tub, and for a second, Dean almost believed he had imagined the whole thing.

One look at Castiel, who seemed as confused with their new surroundings as he was, however, told Dean otherwise.

“Did we interrupt something?” asked Gabriel joyfully.

“What? No, I—what do you mean? I—never mind that,” croaked Dean. “It’s, um, about time you got us out of that—that thing.”

Sam, failing miserably at hiding his amusement over the situation, was happily sipping on a yellow-colored drink.

“Yes, _Lord_ knows what might have happened.”

Determined to ignore Gabriel’s comment, Dean said quickly, “So, what’s the verdict? Do you still hate us or are ready to give us a shot?”

With a mischievous smile on his face, Gabriel said, “As I told Sam just before I ended your private time,” to which Dean rolled his eyes, “I think we ought to put this matter aside for a while and enjoy what’s left of the evening.” And after noticing the unimpressed look Castiel and Dean shared with one another, he then added, “It will give me the opportunity to mull things over.”

“And it is through debauchery that you will accomplish this?” said Castiel, gesturing around them.

“Like I said, distractions work.”

“Fine.” Tugging on his shirt, Dean said, “Can you do something about our clothes though?”

“I could put Cas in a lab coat and cowboy boots like Dr. Sexy. Would that help?”

And then, Dean muttered something along the lines of, “That’s not what I meant.”

“So, without further ado,” said Gabriel, taking on official tone, “here’s to the rest of the evening. First off,” and then he snapped his fingers and Castiel and Dean had bubbly drinks in their hands.

Food, from pastries to barbeque, was also displayed on the counter next to them.

“Drink up. Eat up. As much as you want. Nobody will get sick. Or even majorly drunk. _Just_ the right amount to hit that blissful mindset so everyone can have a good time.”

He snapped his fingers again, and the music took another tone, people were cheering and dancing.

“Let’s see where this evening gets us.”

While the trio had to admit that Gabriel was making the evening interesting, the idea of abandoning themselves to it didn’t sit right with them.

After all, they had set themselves a task and this seemed counter-productive.

But since they had shared their piece with Gabriel, they also gathered that it was up to Gabriel to decide now. No amount of nagging would change that.

So, Dean lifted his glass and drank up, and Sam and Castiel imitated him.

Soon, Gabriel and Sam, who had remained in their initial spot, watched Castiel helping Dean who was eagerly filling plates with food.

“You sure he can’t get sick?” asked Sam, not believing his brother.

“Yup. No sickness. No harm. Remember?”

Sam, after grabbing another drink, which tasted as sweet as maple syrup, continued observing the other two. He had no idea what was going on, but Dean appeared to be laughing.

“You could have let them be in the hot tub,” said Sam to Gabriel, amused. “Pretty sure they, um, wouldn’t have missed us.”

Gabriel let out a fake gasp of outrage, “And make them miss the awesomeness that is about to happen here?”

A smile creeping on his lips, Sam shook his head.

“I promise that I won’t intervene anymore. But I’m sure there will be other opportunities for them to carry on where they had left off, right here.”

And Gabriel was right about that.

Within the hour, once Dean had satisfied his hunger, he and Castiel were dancing in the middle of the crowd, seemingly unbothered by anyone. And while Gabriel had been tempted to drastically change the beat of the music to something much slower, as promised, he didn’t interfere.

Which was a good thing as he himself had his own distraction to dwell on with Sam by his side.

At some point during the night, Castiel lost his burgundy coat and let people body paint on him. Which was a spectacle that Dean found extremely hilarious to witness at first, given the confused expression of the angel at the practice. But soon enough, especially when Castiel was also rid of his shirt, _comical_ was no longer what Dean perceived the scene to be. And the next thing he knew, Dean had taken off his own shirt, and let Castiel—no one else—use the brushes on him.

This alone would have warranted them an embarrassing whistling from Gabriel if he hadn’t been busy entertaining Sam by making it rain glitter, only over them, no matter where they went.

Gravity disappeared for a whole hour, during which people amused themselves by twirling. Castiel and Gabriel were the most skilled with their motions, and though Sam was getting the hang of it rather quickly, it became evident that Dean was not a fan of it.

But as soon as Castiel reached his side and helped him by getting hold of him, it seemed to greatly improve the situation for Dean. Gently resting his hand on Dean’s wrist, Castiel helped Dean navigate throughout the room, which seemed to have inexplicably tripled in size. Gabriel must have wanted people to have a lot of freedom floating around, had deduced Dean.

As he and Castiel were casually rising up, Dean, still feeling Castiel’s hand on his wrist, finally did what he had been meaning to the whole evening. He reached for Castiel’s hand, and squeezed it tight.

Smiling widely.

Trying to keep still, he said, “I know I was majorly annoyed by a lot of the stupid clothes Gabriel made us wear, or anything he made us do, really, but this is pretty great.”

As the lack of gravity did its job, they twirled slowly, and suddenly not caring about anything else, influenced by the eeriness of the room, Dean leaned in and pressed his lips on Castiel’s mouth.

And he was filled with a mixture of peace and excitement when Castiel wrapped his arms around him, deepening the kiss by gluing himself to him, as they rose higher.

Determined to not let go of Dean.

Closer to the ground, Sam was amusing himself by making Gabriel turn on himself, as he was adopting hilarious poses.

“Having fun?”

“Getting there,” said Sam, laughing. He then took hold of Gabriel and said, “Thank you. This is amazing.”

“You’re welcome, Sam.” And after scanning his face for a moment, he then said, “That’s one of them.”

“One of what?”

“Things I like about you. Your smile.”

“You’re rather helpful in making it happen.”

He winked at him, and began waltzing with him in mid-air.

Eventually, as gravity gradually returned, Castiel and Dean were back on the ground with Sam and Gabriel. They ate S’mores and charred spicy sausages by the bonfire. Played karaoke, even with Chuck and Becky, who astonishingly beat everyone.

At Sam’s suggestion, despite being inside, the most intricate fireworks unfolded above their heads and melted into a scenery displaying the cosmos.

And as the four of them stood next to each other, admiring the scene in a quiet awe, feeling almost blissful, Gabriel lifted his hand and snapped his fingers.


	5. Chapter Five: The Verdict

At dawn, while a few people were still dancing, most of them, including the hotel’s staff, were now sleeping all over the place. On the floor. Tables, Even armchairs. The décor of the hotel, as well as everyone’s clothes, had returned to its original state.

Dean and Castiel were whispering to each other, comfortably sitting at the bar, as they watched with amusement Gabriel drawing horns and halos on the heads of everyone on the floor who was snoring.

“The guy has talent,” said Dean, rubbing his hair to get rid of the glitter still stuck in it. “I’ll give him that.” His expression suddenly turned grim as something occurred to him.

Noticing his face, Castiel asked, “What is it?”

“I just—I know he hasn’t given us a proper answer yet, but I’m pretty sure we know what it is. He was dead set on it. And seeing all this, I just wished we could have convinced him.”

“It doesn’t mean that Gabriel will not reconsider our plea later on. Even if we haven’t succeeded this time, at least he’ll remember what we’ve told him. And parting this way is far better than how we did last week.”

Holding his hand, Dean had to admit Castiel had a point there.

“I just hope that if he does change his mind, it won’t be too late.”

Remaining quiet together, they were soon startled when people began waking up like clockwork. Everyone felt refreshed and relaxed, as though they had had the best sleep of their lives. No hunger. No illness. No hangovers. Just as Gabriel had promised.

“Oh, cool, there you are.”

Sam approached them, walking carefully across the room, trying his best to not step on anyone.

“Us? We’ve been here this whole time. You’re the one who just vanished at some point. Where have _you_ been?” asked Dean.

“Just…around.”

“Why are you wearing your shirt backwards?” asked Castiel.

Sam’s eyes widened and immediately look down.

“Holy shit,” said Dean.

“Okay, that, um, isn’t what it looks like.”

“Really?”

There was a pause, and then Sam said, “Maybe a little bit, but not, like, we didn’t—” He sighed in frustration. “Have you seen Gabriel?”

“That’s a very smooth segue, Sam.”

“Have you seen him?”

“He’s right there.”

“Where?”

“What do you—he’s right—” but Dean stopped mid-sentence when he turned to look where Gabriel had been not even a moment ago.

But the archangel had now vanished.

“Shit. Sam, I—I swear he was right there.”

“It’s okay, Dean. We knew this would happen.” He took a seat next to them. “And no matter what, we tried. And I had fun, so I don’t regret anything."

And while Sam seemed to have meant every word, Castiel and Dean couldn’t help but feel somewhat defeated.

But they would be happy to learn that Gabriel hadn’t left at all.

As the people inside the hotel were slowly coming to, the archangel was standing in the parking lot next to Chuck.

“You know, for someone who is resolved in refusing them, you went through a whole lot of trouble to show off last night,” said Chuck.

“I wanted them to enjoy themselves as I’m sure they won’t be able to do so any time soon. Besides, I didn’t really show off until the end. And that was…maybe about something else.”

“So, now that you got it out of your system, you’ll get back to your usual drill and stay clear from this whole mess?”

“No, actually.”

Chuck turned to him.

“I—I was thinking, maybe I’d give them a shot.”

“You’re on board with their plan,” said Chuck, returning his gaze to the sunrise. “Even if you know it’s useless.”

“It seems so.”

“Huh. And what was it? What convinced you in the end? Or should I say, _who_ convinced you?”

“Why? Wanna get it right for the books?”

“Answer the question.”

Gabriel, hands in his pocket, inhaled the fresh air. “It was a collective effort. But I have to say, the cherry on top was you. You are the one who gave me the biggest argument.”

“Me?” said Chuck incredulously. “What?”

“Yup. You—you said something. Something that… I wondered if you had let it slip on purpose. Which then made me think I ought to do the opposite and that my involvement may, in fact, be beneficial for those three adorable dorks. And then I thought, maybe you also knew that I would think that, and this is where the insanity begins and why I’ve always made a point of staying away from it all. But I wanted to take the time to mull it over.”

“Okay,” said Chuck. He shifted on his feet. “There is a lot I’d like to say about this, but considering you’ll simply overthink everything I say, I’ll simply ask: Why did you come to the conclusion of joining them if you suspect it might only be a ploy by me?”

“Because I tried to ignore you.”

“That’s—what do you mean by that?”

“As long as you are in the equation, there’s really not much we can do. When I knew what I did had very little importance to you, I didn’t think twice and just went with the flow. That’s been my way of life for centuries now.”

“Yes, I’ve noticed,” said Chuck, clearing his throat.

“But it’s rather difficult to continue with that philosophy in this situation. So, for a brief second, I decided to ignore that element, and I asked myself if I would feel differently about it. If I didn’t take you into account, and just saw this as a ‘Lucy’ problem and nothing else. And while I’m not thrilled to be dealing with the fam again, the answer was actually very easy. I want to help them.”

“Even though you know the outcome will be the same?”

“I didn’t say help them to ‘win.’ I know that’s…highly improbable. Not the way they’d like to anyway. Only one person can guarantee that, as far as I know.” Gabriel turned to Chuck. “And I happen to know how stubborn they can be about this.”

“Then why bother?”

“Because Dean’s right. It is about taking a stand. Just like Castiel is right about caring about what’s happening down here on earth. And Sam…” Gabriel folded his arms and rocked on his feet. “So, yeah. If I don’t think about—about the big picture, and see this as just another messed up problem, I don’t see why I couldn’t help.”

“Interesting.”

There was a long silence and then Gabriel asked, “Is this the part when you laugh or lock me away?”

“No. I’m intrigued to see how this going to play out. And since you said my involvement—ish—is what caused you hesitation, I’ll even do you a solid.”

“What do you mean?”

And even before Gabriel had reached the end of his sentence, Chuck snapped his fingers.

Gabriel stared at him as he waited for his answer, unaware that Chuck had already acted on it.

And unaware that he no longer knew Chuck’s real identity.

“Shurley, the suspense killing me. How are you going to do me a favor?”

Smiling, Chuck shoved his hand in his pocket, and said, “I’ll keep an eye out for you guys and God.”

Gabriel chuckled. “Your heart is in the right place, pal, but you must know that there isn’t much we can do against what _He_ wants.”

“You’re probably right.”

“There you are,” said a voice behind them.

Becky, the Winchesters and Castiel were crossing the parking lot towards them.

“Thanks for coming, guys. I’m glad you didn’t miss it. And nice to meet you, Castiel, And Gabriel,” she said, turning to him, “this was…interesting. I’m still watching you,” she said in a serious tone, “but you made the convention even more memorable than I thought it would be.”

Taking a dramatic pause, Gabriel said, “Was that a thank you?”

And while Becky remained silent, neither confirming and refuting his question, Gabriel greatly contented himself with her praise.

She and Chuck said a last goodbye to everyone. Sam and Dean told them to take care of themselves, to let them know if they hear something through the grapevine, and that under no circumstance was Chuck allowed to publish more _Supernatural_ books.

As Chuck walked away after giving them a nervous nod at their demand, Gabriel couldn’t help but laugh.

“What’s so funny?” asked Dean.

“You guys being hellbent on keeping these books hushed down. I don’t know why you wouldn’t. It is one entertaining story.”

“What’s coming next isn’t that cheerful and you keep telling us that it only ends one way, so why does it matter?”

“Very true. _That being said_ ,” he added, and they turned to him, “you three persistently remind me that the story _isn’t_ over just yet.”

All three of them, even Castiel, nearly gasped at him.

“So, maybe,” mused Gabriel, “the best part is yet to come and letting that writer-prophet type it all down might be worth it after all.”

“What are you saying?” asked Sam, trying to not sound too hopeful.

Looking at the sky again as he took a deep breath in, Gabriel beamed at him. “I was just thinking that if the Apocalypse happens, we’d miss this thing next year,” he said, pointing at the hotel. “And considering how it turned out, it would be a shame if that happened.”

“You kind of set the expectations pretty high,” said Dean.

“Then, I guess we ought to help them. And it’s going to be a lot of work to do. So, where do we start?”

They stared at him, almost worried they had misheard him.

“Gabriel, are you—do you really mean it?” asked Sam.

“I do. I’ll help you.”

Sam, Dean and Castiel beamed at each other, as their chests were filled with relief.

“Where to, boys?”

“Um, Crowley, I guess,” said Dean. “We need the Colt.”

“Right. Well, about that,” said Gabriel, letting out a short laugh, “I have good news and bad news. The good news is that I know Crowley and his location.”

“You do?”

“He’s the one who pointed me in the right direction to find you, sort of.”

“You couldn’t have said that before?” asked Dean incredulously.

“I’m telling you now.”

“What’s the bad news?” asked Castiel gravely.

“That the little pistol you’re so desperate to get your hands on, I—I’m afraid it won’t do much against Lucifer.”

Their faces fell.

“No.”

“Yeah, that gun can kill many things, but not everything. And an archangel is kinda hard to kill. Take my word for it.”

Dean swore under his breath.

“And what could, um, do the job then?” asked Sam.

Gabriel turned his gaze to Castiel, who he suspected already knew the answer.

“A few things, which are really difficult to come by. Our best bet, however, is probably an archangel blade. Like this one.” Gabriel retrieved a blade from his jacket, and then added, as Dean was reaching for it, “which can only be wielded by an archangel. I mean, you can still use it, but it won’t do much against an archangel if you’re the one wielding it.”

“So, only an archangel can kill another archangel,” said Dean, processing the information. 

As Gabriel put the blade away, Sam said, “So, I guess that means, we don’t have to meet Crowley.”

“Yeah, don’t tell Becky,” joked Dean.

“Actually,” said Gabriel, “I think we ought to pay Crowley a visit.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I mean, even if I have the blade, he still has the Colt.”

“The Colt and an archangel blade. That wouldn’t be bad,” said Dean.

“Right you are. And I was thinking that perhaps Mr. Singer should be paid a visit as well? What do you think? Should we make him ditch his wheelchair on the way to Crowley’s or get the toys first?”

Dean exhaled a massive sigh of relief, and said, “I’m definitely for delivering the surprise all at once.”

And Sam and Castiel nodded in agreement. 

“All right, then.” Gabriel slapped his hands together, and said, “Boys, hold onto your butts.”

And right after he winked at Sam, he snapped his fingers, and he, Castiel, Sam, Dean—and even Baby—vanished, on their way to the demon named Crowley.

THE END

**Author's Note:**

> Once again, thank you [Danica](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Danica_Dust/pseuds/Danica_Dust) and Landrala. Your support means everything. 💕  
> Thank you AgusVedder for the lovely art! I will forever laugh at Dean feeling awkward AF. ( [Here](https://agusvedder.tumblr.com/post/626120324017225728/hi-everyone-this-is-the-art-i-made-for) is the original art post to give the artist some love!)
> 
> I hope you enjoyed the fic. I haven't dwelled too much into canon yet, so this was the perfect occasion to do so!   
> Feel free to say hello on [Tumblr](https://thefandomsinhalor.tumblr.com) where I obsess about spn, mainly by reblogging all the wonderful art people do.
> 
> Thank you for reading!  
> I hope you have a nice day and that you are safe ❤️


End file.
